The Calverts
by Bohemian Anne
Summary: The sequel to John and Miriam.
1. Chapter One

Chapter One

April 18, 1912

John walked slowly through the crowd, with Mary's hand and Allegro's leash in one hand, and Nadia's hand in the other. Around him, people jostled and shouted, trying to catch a glimpse of the Titanic survivors. Some members of the crowd were concerned friends and relatives, or officials from the White Star Line. Others were curiosity seekers, obscenely fascinated by one of the greatest maritime disasters in history.

Dozens of reporters pushed through the crowd, shouting questions and taking pictures. One spotted John and his small entourage, and pushed past two other reporters, the magnesium flash of his camera startling his subjects. Mary screamed, and Allegro yipped, trying to sink his puppy teeth into the reporter's shoe.

"Sir!" the reporter shouted. "How did you survive? I'm given to understand that few steerage men lived. Are these your children? Did you lose anyone on the ship?"

Resolutely, John picked up the two small girls and balanced them on his hips. Ignoring the reporter, he pushed into the crowd, merging with the thousands of other people. Mary and Nadia clung to him, their eyes wide and frightened.

Stopping for a moment, John picked up the puppy and set him in Mary's arms, lest he be trampled by the milling crowd. Mary hugged the animal as her father headed for a break in the crowd, seeking a way out.

They had already been processed by the immigration officials, and had been escorted to an area where several charitable organizations were waiting to assist those survivors who had no friends or relatives in the new country, and had no other resources to rely on. John had been referred to these organizations, but had soon slipped away. There were many people in need of assistance, many far worse off than he, and had no desire to take the limited resources of the charities when he could provide for himself and his family.

The money that Miriam had placed in Mary's dress pocket during the sinking of the Titanic was stored safely inside the ripped lining of his coat, and, although he wasn't certain of the value of it, he knew that there was enough to provide for them for a while. The other items—a locket containing a water-damaged photograph of a woman he assumed was Miriam's mother, a two-tailed silver dollar, and a note written on a twenty dollar bill—were also tucked inside the lining of the coat, safe from pickpockets.

Slowly, John made his way out of the crowd. Once he was past it, he set the girls down, his arms tired from carrying them and the dog. His side ached dully, the cracked ribs he had suffered during the sinking not yet healed. Taking the hands of the two toddlers, he slowly made his way farther into the city, wondering what he was going to do now.

He had no idea where to find shelter, or food, at this late hour, and a chilly rain was falling over the city. He held Mary's hand tightly as the child coughed, fearing that the pneumonia she had just recovered from would return. Pneumonia could be fatal, as he well knew. Mary's mother, Jana, had died from it when Mary was an infant.

He kept an eye out for any establishment that might still be open. Even if he couldn't buy any food at this late hour, he still needed to find shelter for himself and the two young children. It was much too cold and wet to spend the night in the street, especially after the ordeal they had just been through.

John was familiar with cities, having grown up in a working class neighborhood in London, but he had never before been to the United States, and New York was completely unfamiliar. Miriam had described it, but most of her experience had been with the wealthier sections of the city, and she had never wandered the streets late at night, searching for shelter.

"Daddy?" Mary's voice interrupted his thoughts. "I cold."

John picked her up, setting her on his hip again. "I know you are, Mary. Is that a little better?"

"Uh-huh."

Nadia stopped, looking up at him pleadingly. Sighing, John bent down and picked her up, too. Nadia hadn't said a word since John had taken her with him when he had found her on the Carpathia, except for occasionally crying out in her sleep. John knew that she didn't speak English, but Nadia had not spoken while awake in any language. He thought that her first language might be Arabic, and he knew that her mother had occasionally spoken to her using a few French words, but he spoke only English, and wouldn't have understood her even if she had attempted to speak.

All three of them were shivering, though Allegro seemed to be content enough. His eyes searching the darkened street before him, he saw a bench set back under an overhang. A hunched figure already occupied it, but John headed for it anyway. It was shelter, no matter how crude.

Sitting down on the bench, John set the two girls in his lap, lifting the puppy onto the bench beside him. The hunched figure on the bench, a woman wearing a coat several sizes too large for her, looked up at them, startled, then pulled her knees up to her chin, apparently having dismissed him as a threat.

John unbuttoned his coat and wrapped it as best he could around himself and the two children, trying to warm them. Allegro curled against his leg, his chin on John's knee.

Nadia's eyes drooped sleepily, and in minutes she was asleep, in spite of the cold and the dampness. Mary coughed fretfully, her eyes popping open every few minutes as she fought sleep. John tried to soothe her, rubbing her back and placing her head against his shoulder.

The woman on the other end of the bench shuffled, eyeing them cautiously. She reached her hands into the pockets of her wet coat, as though searching for something, then sat up, putting her feet on the sidewalk. She hunched over again, looking up and down the street as though trying to make a decision.

John watched her dispassionately. She had long, snarled hair, the color indeterminate in the darkness, and was wearing a dress that was probably once very nice, but was now somewhat shredded. Her oversized coat looked expensive, and she dug her hands deeper into the pockets as she got to her feet, her arms half-hidden in them.

Mary peeked up at her as she stood. "Hi," she told the woman, turning her head to look at her.

"Hello," the woman responded, in a cultured voice that sounded vaguely familiar, though John didn't know why. He didn't know many people in America, aside from the few he had met on the Titanic and the Carpathia, and he certainly didn't know anyone who spoke like that. The only person he knew who had such a cultured voice was Miriam, and Miriam was dead.

"Shh," he told Mary. "Don't bother the lady."

"Mommy's fend," Mary protested, pointing to her.

"No, Mary. Your Mommy didn't know her."

"What was your Mommy's name, sweetie?" the woman asked, looking at Mary.

Mary screwed up her face, trying to remember. "Mirim," she answered triumphantly after a moment.

"Miriam?"

"Uh-huh." Mary looked up at her. "Mommy died."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Mary. Is this your Daddy?"

"Uh-huh. And Nada, and Egro."

"Nadia and Allegro," John translated, at the woman's confused look. "I'm John."

"I'm Rose."

Suddenly, John knew why her voice sounded familiar. Rose had been down in steerage the night before the sinking, drinking beer and making a fool of herself. "Rose DeWitt Bukater?"

"Rose Dawson." She spoke firmly. "And, unless I miss my guess, you're John Calvert, the husband of Miriam Anders Calvert." Her voice softened. "I'm sorry to hear she didn't make it."

"Thank you. What are you doing out here in the street? What happened to your fiancé?"

Rose's expression became shuttered. "Suffice it to say I am not with him, nor will I be again. As to what I am doing out here, I am looking for a hotel. There are two inexpensive ones on this street."

"Are they still accepting guests at this hour?"

"If they aren't full, they will be. If they are, I suppose I will have to look farther. You should think about doing to the same. Those children shouldn't be out in the cold like this, especially after Titanic. If you can't afford a hotel, there's a Red Cross shelter just three blocks that way." She pointed down a dark street. "They've taken some of the Titanic survivors there. They would probably give you shelter and some food."

"I can afford a hotel. Where are these hotels you mentioned?"

Rose pointed to one building with lights in some of its windows on the next block of the street, then gestured to another in the opposite direction. "That's where I'm going to try first."

"If you don't mind, I'm going to tag along." She gave him a suspicious look. "I need to find a room for the night. You're right; the girls don't need to be out in the rain. I'm not trying to follow you, but that hotel looks to be the nearest one, and I need to get them inside before they get sick."

As if to underscore his words, Mary coughed, her little face turning red from the exertion.

"Is she ill?" Rose asked, looking more closely at the child.

"She just recovered from pneumonia, and I don't want her getting it again. She nearly drowned when the ship went down."

"Oh, how terrible!" Rose's face showed her compassion. "Hurry, then. Let me carry one of them."

John stood, allowing Rose to take Mary. Holding Nadia, he took Allegro's leash and started down the street beside her.

Mary held onto Rose's coat, her eyes wide as she looked up at her. "You pretty," she told Rose, touching her tangled hair.

"Thank you, Mary. You're very pretty, too."

Mary grinned at her, then commenced coughing again. Rose walked faster, John keeping stride with her, as they headed toward the hotel.


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

They reached the hotel a few minutes later. It was small and sparsely furnished, but to John it looked like a palace. It was warm, and out of the rain, and brightly lit compared with the dark street outside.

The desk clerk looked at the sodden group, dressed in their ragged clothing. Allegro walked out to the end of his leash, like a self-appointed spokesman for the humans, and shook himself, spraying water everywhere.

"Ah...sir," the desk clerk began. "You aren't allowed to bring dogs in here with you."

John sighed, trying to decide what to do. He couldn't very well leave the puppy out in the rain, and he couldn't travel any farther with the exhausted, shivering children.

Rose spoke up. "Oh, come now, how much is one tiny puppy going to hurt things?"

As if to emphasize her point, Allegro walked back to John and lay down on his feet, promptly falling asleep. John set Nadia down, and she knelt down to pet the puppy.

The desk clerk looked at them in consternation. People occasionally tried to bring their pets in with them, and he always had a hard time turning them away. This group looked as though they could have survived the Titanic, and one of the children was coughing miserably. He couldn't turn them away.

"All right," he conceded. "But that animal had better not make any noise, or leave a mess on the floor."

John nodded. The puppy had already left a mess on the street, so he didn't think there was much danger of the dog ruining the plain, hard floor of the hotel. The animal barked when upset, but his bark was still high-pitched and puppyish, and didn't usually disturb anyone.

"How much for a room?" he asked.

"Two dollars," the clerk replied, eyeing the ragged group and wondering if they had that much between them.

"We'll need two rooms," Rose added.

"There's only one available."

Rose looked at John. She didn't relish the thought of walking out on the streets again, but she couldn't expect him to leave with the two little girls in need of shelter.

John gestured to her. "How large are American hotel rooms?" he asked her in a low voice.

"I don't know. I've only stayed in expensive hotels." She paused. "You take the room. The girls need a place to sleep."

"I can't send you back out into the rain like that."

"There's only one room available, and the children need it more than I do."

"The only other option I can think of is to share."

Rose looked at him, then at the toddlers. "One of us would have to sleep on the floor."

"I will," John told her. He thought for a moment of how others would view this odd arrangement, but the strange turn of events that had brought him here had challenged his views of propriety, especially where the girls were concerned.

Rose dug into one of the inner pockets of her coat, extracting a twenty dollar bill. "I will pay fifty cents," she told him, "and you will pay a dollar fifty, since three members of the group are yours."

John nodded, extracting one of the bills he had hidden inside the lining of his coat. "What is this?"

"It's money," Rose told him, looking at him strangely.

He sighed. "I know that. But how does it relate to one dollar and fifty cents?"

Rose looked at the bill. "That's a five dollar bill. You'll get three dollars and fifty cents in change. There are one hundred cents in a dollar," she added, trying to explain American currency.

John just nodded, understanding what she was saying, although he was unfamiliar, for the most part, with American money. They brought the money to the desk clerk, who looked at them strangely when they insisted upon paying separately.

"We don't allow any funny goings-on around here," he told them, refraining from taking their money until they had explained themselves.

"Don't worry about it," John told him. "Rose is—"

"I'm his sister," Rose interjected, smiling at the desk clerk. "We prefer to keep our bills separate."

The clerk shook his head, not quite believing them, but unwilling to argue. The manager wouldn't be back until the following afternoon, and he was in charge for the time being.

After John and Rose had signed in, the clerk gave them the key, and they escorted the sleepy children and whining puppy up the stairs. As soon as the children and dog were warmly ensconced in the bed, sleeping soundly, Rose looked at John.

"Are you going to sleep beside them, or shall I?" she asked, glancing at the bed. There was enough space for one adult to fit in beside the sleeping youngsters.

"You can take the bed," John told her, taking an extra blanket from the closet shelf and wrapping it around himself. "I can sleep on the floor."

"They're your family," she replied, looking at the toddlers with the puppy curled up between them. "You should stay beside them."

"I'm more used to uncomfortable conditions than you are," he pointed out. "You've probably never slept anywhere that wasn't comfortable."

Rose had to concede that he was right. She wanted her freedom, but some things would take some getting used to. "All right," she told him, pulling off her coat and hanging it on a hook in the closet, revealing her damp silk dress. She shivered. "I'll take the bed."

So saying, she crawled beneath the covers, trying to find a comfortable position beside the sleeping children. Her damp dress was cold, and she wished she could remove it as well, but not with the man in the room. Shivering, she pulled the covers up to her chin.

John lay down on the hard floor, wishing he had someplace softer to sleep. Still, they were out of the rain, and in a warm room. Mary and Nadia were fast asleep, and Mary's cough seemed to have stopped. Pulling the blanket tighter around him, he closed his eyes.

*****

Rose was awakened at sunrise by Nadia's whimpers. The child was still curled up asleep beside her, but she was crying and calling out in her sleep, speaking in a language that Rose did not understand.

Rose didn't know who Nadia was calling for, but suspected that it was someone she had lost on the ship. She wasn't sure about the Calvert family, but she didn't think Nadia belonged to John. There was no resemblance between the two, and Mary was so close in age that she was certain that the children did not share a mother.

She shook the little girl gently, waking her. Nadia stared up at her, startled, as Allegro crawled over and placed his head in the toddler's lap.

"Are you all right?" Rose whispered to Nadia, pulling her into her lap.

Nadia stared at her uncomprehendingly, her dark eyes still filled with tears, before curling up into a ball in Rose's lap and hugging the dog to her.

Rose sighed, rocking the child. She didn't know what to make of this situation she had found herself in.

*****

A few hours later, John had the girls bathed, dressed, and fed a simple breakfast at a small restaurant two doors down from the hotel. He had taken Allegro around the back of restaurant, digging scraps out of the trash to feed to the dog, as he recalled some people doing both for their pets and for themselves in London. New York, he was already observing, was not so different. Perhaps Miriam had been right in her cynicism about the opportunities available in America.

He returned to the front of the restaurant as Rose came out, leading the two girls by the hands. Both toddlers were much more cheerful this morning, after a good night's sleep and a filling breakfast. Rose had eaten with them, still asking for her own bill, and Mary had spent much of the meal admiring her. The toddler seemed in awe of the tall, red-headed woman, and Rose had bought a piece of penny candy for each of the children before leaving the restaurant.

She handed a bag of leftovers to John. "Here," she told him. "For later."

John nodded, taking the bag. On the rare occasions in London when he had spent the money to eat in a restaurant, he had always spirited away the leftovers with him. Some restaurant owners approved, some did not. John had always assumed that he was entitled to anything he paid for, and took what was left.

"Where are you going now?" Rose asked him, as they prepared to part ways.

"Ah...actually..." He dug the twenty dollar bill with the note on it out of his coat and showed it to Rose. "Would you happen to know where this is?"

Rose looked at the address. It was for a residence in one of the classier areas of the city. She had been there a few times, but wasn't quite certain how to get there from the section of town they were in.

"Um...first you need to find out where in the city you are," she told him.

"Don't you know?"

"We're a few blocks from Pier 54. That's all I know. This isn't the sort of place I'm used to frequenting."

After a few inquiries, they learned where they were. Rose, thinking quickly, told John where to find the neighborhood he sought, in the eastern portion of the city. She had noted the location of the El the night before while wandering the streets, and pointed out where it was.

John thanked her, walking away in that direction with the children and dog. He looked back once, to see Rose watching after them. He waved, wondering if they would see her again.

"Good luck, Rose Dawson," he mumbled under his breath, still not sure what her story was, or why she had been on the streets. Was there something about the upper class that drove young women away? Rose was the second first class woman he had met who had abandoned her old world. Miriam was the first, and he sincerely hoped that Rose's fate was better than Miriam's.

John made his way to the El, trying to determine how to get to Miriam's old neighborhood. He soon learned that the El did not go directly there, as it was an upper class neighborhood, and, after studying the schedule and locations that the train went to, he figured out which stop was the closest to where he was going.

Herding his small group into the noisy, crowded train, he found a seat and set the girls down, remaining standing himself. Holding Allegro in one arm, he watched the world go by outside the window, wondering what their reception would be at Miriam's old home.


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

April 19, 1912

John made his way slowly down a broad street lined with expensive houses. Mary and Nadia toddled along beside him, while Allegro darted about at the end of his leash, pausing to sniff at trees and lamp posts and to bark at other dogs.

John consulted the address written on the twenty dollar bill. According to what it said, the Anders' home should be on this street. He walked on, ignoring the occasional stares and strange looks from passers-by. He didn't look like a member of the upper class, and he wasn't dressed like one of their servants. People eyed his ragged clothes suspiciously, as well as the two small children dressed in the garb of impoverished immigrants. One woman walking a toy poodle had been appalled when she had been forced to stop while the poodle and Allegro sniffed each other over, tails wagging nervously.

John finally came to the house listed on the bill, a large three-story brick structure with a wide green lawn and flower beds only beginning to bloom in the spring sunlight. Keeping Mary and Nadia at his side, he ordered Allegro closer to them and rang the bell.

A plump, gray-haired woman answered the door. John looked at her, remembering the picture that was in the locket, and knew that this had to be one of the servants, rather than Miriam's mother.

She looked at the ragged group suspiciously. "May I help you?" she asked, holding the door as close to shut as she could.

"May I speak with Mr. or Mrs. Anders?" John inquired.

"Who may I say is calling?"

"My name is John Calvert. I'm here on behalf of their daughter Miriam."

"Mr. Anders isn't home at present. I will see if Mrs. Anders will see you." She closed the door, leaving the group on the doorstep.

John sighed, wondering if he would even be able to speak to Mrs. Anders. Mary and Nadia toddled over to the door, examining the carved wood curiously, while Allegro scratched himself furiously, then settled down to groom himself.

The door opened suddenly, sending the toddlers scurrying back to him. The gray-haired woman had returned, accompanied by a striking woman in her forties.

John recognized her from the locket. "Mrs. Anders?" he asked, offering his hand.

She shook it tentatively. "Yes. My housekeeper says you have word about my daughter. Do come in."

John stepped inside the house. The inside was as elaborate as the outside, with a wide hall decorated with expensive tables and works of art leading to the other rooms of the house. He glimpsed a spiral staircase winding toward the second floor, and wondered what had possessed Miriam to leave this luxury behind.

He followed Mrs. Anders into the parlor, and sank down onto a stiff horsehair chair. He pulled the girls into his lap, while the puppy hid beneath the chair and stared at his new environs with wide eyes.

"I'm afraid we haven't been properly introduced," Mrs. Anders began. "I'm Elizabeth Anders, Miriam's mother."

"I'm John Calvert, Miriam's...husband." He stopped, suddenly wondering if Miriam had told her parents that she had been married.

"Husband?" she began, but was interrupted by Mary.

"I Mary," the little girl told her, beaming. "This is Daddy, and Nada, and Egro." She struggled to get down from John's lap, but he held her tight.

"Stay here, Mary," he told her warningly. "And don't interrupt. It isn't polite."

Mary looked sullen for a moment before Elizabeth turned to her. "I'm pleased to meet you, Mary," she told the child, shaking her hand. "And..."

"Nadia," John told her, as Elizabeth looked at the dark-haired girl in his lap. "She's my niece."

"Welcome Mary, Nadia," Elizabeth told them pleasantly, before returning her attention to John. "You say you're Miriam's husband?"

"Yes. I...suppose she didn't tell you."

"No, she didn't. When were you married?"

"In January. In London."

Elizabeth sighed. "She probably thought her father and I would try to annul the marriage."

"Could you have done that, from so far away?"

"I have no idea," she confessed, "and I wouldn't be inclined to do so anyway, though her father might. Miriam has always been headstrong, making her own decisions. That was why we sent her to Europe—we knew she could take care of herself."

"She said something about a scandal being the reason you sent her overseas."

"Yes. She...rejected a suitor publicly, and none too diplomatically, I'm afraid."

"Caledon Hockley."

"Yes."

John suppressed a smile, thinking that the arrogant suitor that Miriam had so disliked was probably growing used to rejection by now, seeing that his fiancée, Rose DeWitt Bukater—Rose Dawson, he reminded himself, wondering why she had changed her name—had abandoned him for life on the streets.

"Where is Miriam?" Elizabeth asked suddenly.

John tensed. He had been dreading this question. "She...she's dead, Mrs. Anders. We were on the Titanic, and she didn't get to a lifeboat, and froze to death in the water."

"What?" Elizabeth's face had gone pale. "She wasn't on the Titanic. James and I—James is her father—we checked the lists of both survivors and victims very carefully. Miriam Anders wasn't there."

"She was traveling under her married name—Miriam Calvert," John told her softly, his heart clenching at the shock on Elizabeth's face. He had been so wrapped up in his own grief over Miriam's death that he hadn't stopped to think about what her family would feel.

Elizabeth sat quietly for a moment, methodically shredding the lace cuffs on her dress, before rising abruptly. "Excuse me," she told him, walking from the room.

She returned a moment later with a newspaper containing the lists of Titanic passengers. Opening it, she turned to the list of first class victims.

"She isn't here," she told him after a moment. "I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but..."

"She was in steerage," John told her. He had seen her looking at the first class victims, and knew that Miriam would not be among them.

"Steerage?" Elizabeth looked shocked for a moment, but then turned to another list, searching it. Miriam Calvert was near the bottom of the list of steerage victims. "My God..."

"We were traveling in steerage because she only had enough money for one first class ticket, and she refused to leave us behind, or ride in first class while we rode in steerage." He reached into his pocket, removing the locket, the coin, and the note written on the twenty-dollar bill. "She wanted these things to be returned to you."

Shakily, Elizabeth took the items, opening the locket to see the picture. Closing it again, she clutched the items tightly in her hand, her eyes filling with tears. "Miriam..." she whispered brokenly. "My little girl..." She pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of her dress, dabbing at her eyes.

"Do...do you have other children?" John asked her.

She shook her head. "No. Miriam was the only one." She wiped her eyes, her tears flowing faster. "I had hoped that she would find a husband and come back here, settle down, and raise a few children."

John shook his head, doubting that he was the kind of husband the Anders had had in mind for their daughter, but Elizabeth's next words surprised him.

"She must have loved you very much. Miriam wasn't the kind of girl who would get married just for appearances. That was why we had such a hard time finding a suitor for her. She was always looking for something special in a husband. If only she hadn't sailed on the Titanic..."

John blinked his eyes rapidly, holding back tears. If they hadn't sailed on Titanic, Miriam would be alive and at his side, looking forward to the birth of their first child. He almost told Elizabeth that Miriam had been with child when she had died, but held his tongue, knowing that it would only cause her more sorrow.

Elizabeth sniffed and dried her eyes. "These...these children..."

"Mary is my daughter, from my first marriage," John explained. "And Nadia is my niece, the daughter of my...half-sister, though I'm raising her now, as her father died some time ago and her mother perished on the Titanic."

Elizabeth looked at the restless toddlers. "Mary is Miriam's step-daughter, then?"

John nodded.

"And Nadia is being raised as Mary's sister?"

"Yes."

"Then, if it would not trouble you too much, I would like to claim them as my granddaughters. They're the closest to grandchildren that I will ever have."

John was surprised, but only nodded. "Of course."

The cook appeared in the doorway, carrying a tray of tea, sandwiches, and cookies. Elizabeth thanked her, then glanced at the fidgeting children.

"Would you like to go to the kitchen for a snack?" she asked them.

Mary brightened, but Nadia only stared at her uncomprehendingly.

"Nadia doesn't speak English yet," John explained. "Her father was Arab, and her family lived in Turkey." He wasn't actually sure where Nadia was from, but it seemed as good an explanation as any.

"Oh, I see," Elizabeth said, looking just slightly dubious. "Millie, will you take them back to the kitchen with you? Give them some cookies and milk."

Millie led the two youngsters from the parlor, the puppy following in their wake, his leash dragging behind him.

"Give Eggroll something to eat, too," Elizabeth added, watching the dog scurry after them.

"Allegro," John corrected her.

"What?"

"The puppy's name is Allegro. Mary can't quite pronounce it."

"Oh." She offered him the tray.

John helped himself to a couple of small sandwiches and some cookies, as well as a cup of tea. Like many Englishmen, he appreciated the beverage.

"How did you and Miriam meet?" Elizabeth asked him, sipping delicately from her cup.

"I was working as a clerk at a small shop in London, and Miriam ran inside, trying to hide from the bobbies."

"The bobbies?"

"Miriam was a...suffragette."

"Yes, but was has that to do with it?"

"In London, there have been some violent confrontations between suffragettes and the police. Apparently she took part in one of these demonstrations that got out of hand, and ran when things got out of control."

"Did she escape the bobbies?"

"Almost."

"Almost?"

"One of them saw her slip into the shop, and found her hiding under the counter." He smiled, remembering the incident. "She tried to fight him off with a feather duster."

Elizabeth put her hand over her eyes, shaking her head. "Yes, that sounds like something my daughter would do. Was she arrested?"

John nodded. "She was in jail for a week, but then they let her out, because there was no evidence that she did anything more than disturb the peace. I take it she never told you about this?"

"No, she didn't. Although, given that her reputation was already on shaky ground because of the way she rejected Mr. Hockley, I'm not surprised that she chose to keep her troubles to herself."

"We met again after she was released from jail. She came by the shop to thank me for trying to hide her."

"Did you get into trouble over her actions?"

He shook his head. "No. They completed overlooked me."

"Sometimes, I'm sorry to say, Miriam would act before she thought about it."

"You're right, she would, but she often showed good sense as well." He paused. "We went to dinner together that night, and she met my daughter, Mary, and my first mother-in-law, Isabel, a few days later. Mary took to her right away, though my mother-in-law was suspicious of her. She eventually came around—Miriam could be friendly to anyone—and I proposed to her in December. We were married in January."

"What of your first wife?"

"My first wife, Jana, died when Mary was a baby. She got pneumonia during one of London's damp winters and died within a week."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Thank you. She had been gone almost two years when I married Miriam."

Elizabeth shook her head. "If only Miriam had told us she had gotten married, we would have sent enough money for all of you to ride first class. She might have survived if she had been in first class. Almost all of the first class women survived." She nibbled on a sandwich. "How did you survive? So many of the steerage men died..."

"Miriam and I both wound up in the water when the ship went down. Miriam had almost gotten into a lifeboat, but then we realized that Mary was missing. We split up to look for her, and Miriam found her and managed to get her into a boat, but wasn't able to get into the boat herself. She said that she put her lifebelt on Mary and threw her in the direction of a lifeboat, where someone picked her up from the water. Miriam, of course, couldn't swim, and she had given her lifebelt to Mary."

Elizabeth's eyes filled with tears again. "She gave up her own chance to survive for your little girl. What a good mother she would have been."

John nodded sadly. Yes, Miriam had been a good mother to Mary. If only she and her child had survived...

Pushing the thoughts aside, he continued his story. "We found each other again, and she told me what had happened to Mary. We were trying to climb to the stern as the ship tilted, but someone fell against us, sending us down the deck. Miriam landed on some railings, and I slid down almost to the water before I stopped myself. Miriam climbed to the outside of the ship, so no one would fall on her. Right about that time, the ship split in two."

"It split in half? The papers said it went down in one piece."

John shook his head. "No, I assure you, it split. I tumbled into the water—it had split right about where I was—and Miriam lost her hold on the railing and fell into the sea. I knew that she couldn't swim, and I saw her struggling—her heavy dress was pulling her down—so I dove down after her, and brought her back to the surface. We saw a deck chair, and I swam to it, with Miriam holding on to me, and we waited as the ship finally sank. I was hoping that the boats would come back to search for survivors, but only one did, and by that time it was too late for almost everyone, including Miriam. I tried to get them to take her into the boat, but she was already gone. The last I saw of her was her blonde hair as she sank into the water, pulled down by her wool dress."

Elizabeth was crying again, twisting her handkerchief in her hands. "My poor Miriam...to die in such a horrible way...she was afraid of deep water, you know."

"Yes, she told me about that. About how she almost drowned in the fish pond as a small child. She said that was why she never learned to swim."

Elizabeth nodded. "Yes. She was afraid of deep water—especially cold, deep water. I suppose that she was right to fear it. You say she sank?"

"Yes."

"We won't be able to find her body, then, but I will still see about having a memorial to her raised in the cemetery. She deserves that much."

"Mrs. Anders, if there is anything I can do to help..."

"Thank you, John." She paused. "I think Miriam chose wisely when she married you. Although Miriam is gone, I am proud to have you for a son-in-law." She set her teacup aside. "I hope that you and your children will stay for dinner tonight. James, too, was eager to see Miriam settled. I think he will want to meet you."


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

James Anders arrived home at six o'clock that evening. Contrary to his wife's hopes, however, he was not at all happy about their unexpected guests.

Allegro announced James' arrival home with a barrage of yipping, ending in a squeal as he shoved the dog aside. "Elizabeth!" he shouted, not at all pleased at finding a strange dog in his home, even if it was a purebred show dog.

Elizabeth hurried into the hall. "Yes, James?" she asked, a little timidly, suddenly realizing that he might not be as happy about their guests as she was.

"What is this dog doing here? You know how I feel about animals in the house."

At that moment, Mary emerged from the kitchen, followed by Nadia. The two girls scurried over to the whimpering puppy and picked him up.

"Who are they?" James demanded, even less pleased to see the two ragged toddlers.

Elizabeth took a deep breath. "James, we have a guest tonight. This is his daughter and his niece."

"A guest? When did you invite a guest to dinner?"

"He came to call this morning..." she began, trailing off as his face darkened furiously.

"You know I don't like surprise visitors, Elizabeth," he told her, setting down his briefcase and stalking toward her. Elizabeth held her ground, knowing that backing off would only encourage his temper.

"Just wait until you meet him, James," she pleaded. "I think he's someone you'll want to see."

"And just who is this guest?"

Elizabeth took a deep breath. "His name is John Calvert. The children are Mary and Nadia."

"And what was his purpose for coming here?"

"He brought word on Miriam." Elizabeth fought to keep her composure.

"Oh? Where is she, and what did she do this time?"

"Why don't you come with me to the parlor and find out?"

James followed her, still furious at having his quiet evening interrupted. A maid quietly picked up his briefcase and hurried to put it away, having long since learned to stay out of disputes between the Anders.

John was sitting in the parlor, Mary and Nadia playing quietly at his feet, when they arrived. He rose to greet them, holding out his hand.

"James," Elizabeth began, "this is John Calvert."

James shook John's hand reluctantly, put off by the young man's ragged appearance. He looked no better than one of his factory hands.

"John, this is my husband, James, Miriam's father."

"I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Anders," John told him. James did not reply.

"You say you have word on Miriam?" he demanded, gesturing for John to sit down.

"Ah...yes. Yes, I do."

"What did she do this time? Where is she?"

"James," Elizabeth hissed under her breath, embarrassed by his rudeness.

"Mr. Anders, I'm Miriam's husband. And as to where she is—"

"Her husband?! What in the hell was she thinking?!"

"James!" Elizabeth was mortified. "Let him finish his story."

John quickly explained how he and Miriam had met, facing down the contemptuous stare of her father. He ended with their voyage on the Titanic, explaining how Miriam had died.

James was silent for a moment, his eyes hard. At last, he spoke.

"It's just what I'd expect out of the girl. Flaunting all that is polite, going to jail...it's no wonder you're the best husband she could find."

"Mr. Anders, I loved your daughter very much..."

"Undoubtedly. What sort of favors did she grant you?"

John's face reddened angrily. "Miriam was not a whore!"

James's face was contemptuous. "Any woman who behaves the way she did can't be expected to be anything else."

"Well, she wasn't." John's eyes were equally hard. "Miriam was my wife, and she loved my daughter as though she were her own. Were I in your shoes, I would be proud of her."

"Were you in my shoes, she would never have existed."

John stared at him, confused by this strange statement. Elizabeth looked at her husband pleadingly, then covered her face with her hands.

"You undoubtedly would have given your wife enough children to keep her busy, leaving her no time to stray."

"James, please..." Elizabeth began, but he ignored her.

"Miriam was no daughter of mine, praise God. She was no better than her mother, or that bastard who fathered her. No true daughter of mine would have behaved like her."

Elizabeth stared at him, stricken, but John spoke out, defending the woman he had married. "You're right. A true daughter of yours would not have been someone I would have wanted to know. Miriam was beautiful, loving, and compassionate, and she cared about those less fortunate than herself. She was as different from you as can be. I'm proud that she was my wife, and grateful to the 'bastard' who fathered her and brought a wonderful person into the world. I would not trade the months with her for anything, and I understand now why she left the world she grew up in behind."

James stood, his nostrils flaring angrily. "You are a fool, Mr. Calvert, unable to see past the wiles of my wife's worthless bastard daughter. I suppose she promised you a great inheritance."

"She promised me nothing, except her love and commitment. That was all I ever wanted out of her, and she gave those things with all her heart. I don't want your money, Mr. Anders. Miriam hated your world, and all it represented, and now I know why."

James turned abruptly, heading toward the door. He turned back for a moment.

"Know this, Mr. Calvert. Your wife would happily have brought down everything I have striven for in my life, everything that would have been hers, had she chosen to accept it. In spite of her parentage, I would have named her my heir, and she and her husband would have inherited everything. Instead, she chose to muck about in the gutter, trying to raise the levels of those who should never be granted power, including you and your kind. She died with the steerage trash she had become, sparing all of us the trouble she would have caused."

He stepped out the door, slamming it shut behind him. John stared after him, stunned, while Elizabeth buried her stricken face in her hands, trembling. For years, she had feared that her husband would reveal the scandal behind Miriam's birth, and now her worries had proven founded.


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

After a moment, Elizabeth looked up, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. When she spoke, however, her voice was adamant.

"I don't want you condemning Miriam because of her parentage. She had no control over who her father was, and she never knew that James was not her father. She was always told that he was, and she was never given reason to believe anything else. Neither was anyone else, and it's going to stay that way." She looked John in the eye. "Is this understood?"

John looked back at her. "I would never condemn Miriam for who her parents were, and I have no reason to repeat gossip about your family to anyone." He hesitated, wondering if he should ask the next question. "Who was her father?"

"It's a long story. Perhaps I should start at the beginning."

"All right." John sat back in his chair, pulling Nadia into his lap. Mary peeked out at them from behind the couch.

"James and I were married when I was sixteen and he was twenty-five. I had never met him before our wedding day; it had all been arranged between our families. The Anders financial empire was growing by leaps and bounds, and the Lovell industries—Lovell was my maiden name—were also successful. My father and James' father wanted an alliance between their interests, and felt that the best way to form this alliance, and assure its success, was through the marriage of their children. My mother objected vehemently to the plan—our family is Jewish, and she wanted a good Jewish husband for me. She never spoke to me after I married James.

"We were married on June 16, 1884. James was a handsome young man, and very charming. Even though I was a young debutante, and marrying a man I had never met before, I was happy about the wedding. It didn't distress me that he was outside of my faith, or that I had been made to convert to Christianity without knowing anything about it. I floated down the aisle, as happy a bride as could be.

"Things were good between us at first. There was never really any love between us, but we got along well enough, and I was certainly well-provided for. Every material thing I could want, I got. We had this beautiful house, lots of servants, and the respect of New York society. Things changed, though, after a couple of years. James wanted a son, an heir, but we were never able to have a child, and he blamed me for this. I kept hoping for a child, but it never happened.

"Ten years into our marriage, in 1894, James went overseas on business, and while he was gone, he commissioned a painter he had met in the city to do my portrait. That was my undoing. James and I hadn't been happy for a long time, and the painter he had found, a young man from the Midwest, was only a year older than me, and very attractive. There was a spark between us from the start, and as he entertained me with stories of his growing up years, of his travels, and of his brother and nephew in Wisconsin, I found myself wishing that my life could have been half so interesting. There I was, twenty-six years old, unhappily married, and longing for a child that I couldn't have, and this man came into my life and told me all these stories about what the rest of the world was like, making me long for a life I couldn't have.

"I didn't have much of a family life growing up—there was only myself and my older brother, and I never saw much of him. Father was always away on business, and Mother was so concerned with her social standing, with her charities and groups of friends, that I didn't see much of her, either. These tales of a real family, and of all the places in the world that I had never seen, brought something out in me, something that had been buried for a long time. I didn't think about it when I began telling him about my own life, and the troubles that I had tried to hide for so many years. He was friendly, sympathetic, and I found I myself growing very close to him.

"One thing led to another, and on the day the portrait was completed, I invited him to my bed. He was more resistant to the idea than I would have expected—I was a married woman, and a customer, someone he had never considered carrying on with. He did come to me, of course, and we enjoyed several happy weeks together before James returned home. I knew that it had to end sometime, but what I hadn't expected was that James would get home early. He caught us together, and was absolutely livid. He ordered my lover to leave, and when he refused, afraid of what James might do to me, he had him beaten and dragged away by some of the servants.

"I expected him to beat me, too, but he just turned his back on me, treating me with a coldness and contempt that was worse than any physical punishment he could have dealt out. We didn't speak for two weeks, and then, one morning, my maid brought me a note that she had been given while she was in the market. It was from him, and asked me to meet him at his apartment that night.

"I slipped out after James was asleep—we were sleeping in separate rooms by then, in opposite ends of the house, but I didn't want him to know where I was going. I had our carriage driver take me into the city, and drop me off a couple of blocks from my destination. I had never been in that part of the city before, and it was late at night, but I found my way to his apartment.

"He was preparing to leave, to avoid tainting my name with scandal, but he wanted me to come with him. A part of me wanted to go—I had fallen in love with him—but another part was afraid, afraid of being poor, afraid of not knowing where my next meal was coming from, afraid of what people would say. My fear of the unknown overrode my love for him, and I told him that I couldn't come with him, that I had to stay with my husband. He was sorry, but he didn't press me." She closed her eyes, sighing.

"I wish he had. He might have changed my mind, but he respected what I thought was best. I slipped from his apartment and went home, back to my small, unhappy, secure world. A few weeks later, I found out I was in the family way. It was obvious, of course, that the baby could not have been James', but that wasn't what really upset him. He was more infuriated by the fact that I could have a child at all, when for all of those years he had assumed that I was barren, that it was my fault that we had no children. It was a severe blow to his pride to learn that the problem was with him, rather than with me.

"Still, he was willing to claim the baby as his own, to make it his heir, if I never spoke of who the father had been, and I never did. Not until now. But he was always a little resentful of Miriam, and she sensed it, and defied him at every turn, which only made him more bitter. He wasn't always this unkind to me, but Miriam's defiance, her resistance to his every effort to mold her into his ideal, angered him, and he was happy to send her to Europe for a time, hoping that she would settle down and find a husband he could approve of, an impoverished member of the nobility perhaps, as a few other American debutantes have done."

"And she disappointed him yet again by marrying me."

"Yes. He did love Miriam, in his own way, but they were ever in conflict, and he blamed her defiance on her father. He had hoped that he could make her a proper lady, but she defied him from the start, and he could always see her father in her. She had my face, but she inherited her father's straight blonde hair and blue eyes, and whenever he looked at her, he saw the man who had led his wife astray."

"What happened to Miriam's father?"

"I never saw him again, and he never knew about Miriam. He went down to Cuba during the Spanish-American War, and died there. I can't help but wonder if things might have turned out differently if I had gone with him, if I hadn't been so afraid, but I guess I'll never know. It's over and done with now." Elizabeth rose, smoothing the creases from her dress, her face composed. "Come with me to the kitchen. I told you that I was inviting you to dinner, and I am. James won't eat with us, but we can eat together in the kitchen without him."

John stood, setting Nadia down. As Mary crawled out from behind the couch, John looked at Elizabeth, and asked her one last question.

"What was Miriam's father's name?"

Elizabeth looked at him, her eyes shadowed. "His name was Peter. Peter Dawson."


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

May 10, 1912

John walked down the street, oblivious to the activity around him. He had just gotten off work at his factory job, and was on his way home.

He had rented a small apartment in an immigrant section of the city two weeks before, and had found his factory job a few days later. He sighed, running one hand through his hair. Factory work was not his ideal occupation. The hours were long, the work hard, and work area so noisy his ears rang afterward. Fortunately, the foreman in his department got along well with the workers, and John had no complaints with him.

Factory work was not what he wanted to do forever, but it would pay the bills. He had to do something. The money that he had retrieved from Mary's pocket, while a considerable amount, would not last forever, and he wanted to save it in case of emergency. The job that he had obtained paid enough that he could afford the apartment and enough food for all of them, plus the other things that they needed less frequently. There were even a few dollars left over when their needs were met, which he carefully put away.

The main problem that he had encountered with this job was the question of what to do with Mary and Nadia while he was working. Most families had a mother or other female relative to watch the children, and many older children were either in school or working alongside their parents. The oldest children were often left to fend for themselves during the day, if there was nothing else for them to do, or put in charge of younger siblings.

John had no wife, or any other female relatives in America, and the toddlers were much to young to work, or to be sent to school. They were also too young to fend for themselves, even in the apartment. When he could, he left them with a neighbor, but this wasn't always possible. When he had to leave them alone for the ten hours a day that he worked, he locked them into one of the three rooms of the apartment, leaving them food, water, toys, and blankets to sleep on. He had checked the room carefully, locking the window securely so that no curious child could fall out, and had removed everything he thought might be dangerous to them. Still, he hated leaving them alone; the two-year-olds were incapable of taking care of themselves if something should happen, and Nadia was still turned so far into herself that Mary often wound up being in charge.

He thought the problem over as he walked in the direction of his neighborhood, some six blocks from his workplace. He had to do something about them, he realized. He had thought of two solutions—one, he could marry again, or two, he could try to hire someone to watch the girls.

There were a large number of single women in the neighborhood, many of whom would have jumped at the chance to get married. He knew that he could afford to support another person, though money would be tight, but he wasn't eager to remarry this quickly. Miriam was still very much in his mind and heart, and she had only been gone for three and a half weeks. He wouldn't even have considered the possibility of remarriage this soon if he hadn't had the children to take care of.

The other option was to hire someone to watch them during the day, or even someone to live with them, if necessary. There were always people looking for work, but he was afraid to entrust the girls to a stranger. Some people resented them because they were immigrants, and a few had reacted angrily to Nadia's presence, because she wasn't one of them. Miriam had been right, he thought, about the way that those who were at the bottom of the social ladder and those who were of a different race or ethnicity were treated. The promised land of America was not all it was cracked up to be.

Absorbed in thought, he failed to notice the woman stalking out of the soot-streaked factory building ahead until he ran into her, almost knocking her off her feet.

"Excuse me," he said, reaching out to steady her.

She pulled away from him. "Don't worry about it. It was my fault." Her voice was tight with tension.

He looked at her, recognizing her now. "Miss Dawson. We meet again."

Rose looked up at him. "Please, call me Rose."

"All right. If you will call me John."

"John."

"What are you doing in this neighborhood?"

"I'm looking for work," Rose replied, a down-hearted look appearing on her face. "But what I always hear is that I'm too well-educated, and don't have enough skills." She paused, giving him a confused look. "That doesn't make sense."

"They're probably afraid they'll have to pay you decent wages if you're educated. What kind of work are you looking for?"

"Any kind of work, so long as it doesn't take me back to my old life. I've tried factories, department stores, offices—so far, no luck."

"Have you ever considered caring for children?" John asked, an idea suddenly forming in his mind. If she was looking for work, he might be able to hire her to watch Mary and Nadia, and he already knew that he could trust her with the children.

"I've thought about it, but being a nanny or a governess is likely to bring me into contact with...people I knew before."

"If you worked for a rich family, yes, but...I need someone to care for Mary and Nadia while I work. I could pay you three dollars a week, plus room and board. I know it isn't much, but..."

"And you would only be expecting me to care for the children, not anything else?" Rose looked at him suspiciously, wondering what else he might have in mind. To be sure, he had kept his hands to himself when they had shared a hotel room, but she still didn't know him that well.

"Well, if you could help with the cooking and cleaning, that wouldn't hurt."

"And you wouldn't happen to be expecting any other 'benefits' from this arrangement, would you?"

He sighed. "You are suspicious. No, no other 'benefits'. You'd share a room with the children, and it would be strictly business."

Rose looked down, considering. He did seem trustworthy, and the children liked her. True, three dollars a week wasn't much—she doubted she could live on that alone—but such an arrangement would also provide her with food and shelter, eliminating the need to buy such things.

"All right," she told him. "I'll take it. Just let me stop by the boarding house and get my belongings."

"Where are you living?"

She told him the location, just three blocks from his apartment, and he accompanied her there, helping her carry her few belongings the short distance to his apartment.

He had managed to leave Mary and Nadia with a teenage girl who lived in the same building, and after collecting them, he brought them back to their apartment. Rose was already inside, putting away her things and waiting for them.

Mary was thrilled to see her, and rushed forward, squealing in delight, while Allegro, now much larger than he had been a few weeks earlier, rushed after her, yipping and wagging his tail so hard his whole body shook.

"Aunt Wosie!" Mary shouted, running up to Rose, and tugging on her skirt. "You stay dinner?"

"Actually, Mary, I'm going to stay a lot longer than that—your Daddy has hired me to take of you and Nadia while he goes to work during the day. I live here now."

"You do?" Mary's eyes grew wide. "You our Mommy, now?"

"No, Mary, I'm not going to be your Mommy, but you can keep calling me Aunt Rosie. I'm going to stay with you now."

Mary jumped up and down, tripping and almost falling before Rose caught her and swung her up into the air, giggling. Nadia just watched them, her thumb in her mouth.

Rose set Mary down and knelt down to look at Nadia. "Do you remember me, Nadia?"

Nadia stared at her uncomprehendingly. John spoke up.

"She doesn't speak English yet. In fact, she hasn't spoken at all since we last met."

"Did she ever speak before that?"

"On the ship. From what Miriam told me, Nadia saw her mother crushed under a falling smokestack, and that may be why she doesn't speak."

"Poor thing." Rose looked at Nadia. Pointing to herself, she said, "Aunt Rosie." She pointed to Nadia. "Nadia." Smiling, she waited for a response.

Nadia took her thumb out of her mouth, but didn't make a sound. Still staring at Rose, she crept over to John and wrapped her arms around his legs.

Rose sighed. "All right, Nadia. You'll get used to me eventually. Shall I make dinner?"

"I help," Mary offered, toddling toward the kitchen area. Nadia let go of John's legs and followed Mary.

"I'll show you where I keep things," John told her, gesturing in the direction the toddlers had headed.

Rose allowed Mary to set the table, while Nadia followed them around, still leery of Rose and afraid to let John out of her sight.

Rose hadn't cooked much when she was a member of the upper class, but the weeks on her own had already taught her some survival skills, and she did a fair enough job of preparing the meal with John's help.

As the little group sat down to eat, Rose gave John a reassuring smile, telling him that she was up to the task of caring for the children, and that he wouldn't have to worry about them any more.


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

June, 1912

The arrangement with Rose as caretaker for Mary and Nadia went well. Despite the fact that she had little previous experience with children, Rose soon learned how to care for them, and John no longer worried about their welfare when he went to work each day.

Mary adored Rose, even when Rose made her do things that she didn't like, such as bathing, eating with utensils instead of her fingers, and holding hands when they were crossing the street. Nadia was initially frightened of her new caretaker, but soon grew used to her, just as Rose has predicted. She still didn't speak, and clung to those familiar to her, especially in situations that were unfamiliar or frightening.

John and Rose tolerated Nadia's clinginess, and Rose often found that Nadia was easier to care for than Mary, who had a stubborn independent streak. Nadia never objected to holding hands, and often clung to Rose instead of going off to play when she took them to a local park.

Mary was not so tolerant of Nadia's clinginess, and on more than one occasion sent her adopted sister running in tears to Rose or John. The adults understood the reason for the little girl's fears, but Mary, at two years old, lacked the maturity of the adults, and made no secret of the fact that she wanted to play by herself at times when Nadia wanted to be with her, and would screech furiously at the other girl for interrupting her games. She tried slapping her once, but John promptly spanked her and sent her to her room with nothing to play with.

John had anticipated that any trouble would come from Rose's inexperience with children—he had learned that she had grown up as an only child, and had had almost no experience with children outside her own age group—or from Mary's two-year-old independence, or Nadia's fearfulness. But Rose handled the task with aplomb, sweet-talking Mary into doing what she wanted, or forcing her to do so when the child balked at important issues, especially those regarding her safety. She also worked constantly to bring Nadia out of her shell, talking to her, even when she was certain the little girl couldn't understand her, encouraging her to play with other children, and trying to get Nadia to tell her what she wanted or needed, even if it was only through gestures. She listened quietly at the rare times when Nadia would whisper a few words in her own language, sitting in a corner of the main room with Allegro curled up beside her. Allegro had taken strongly to Nadia, and he was the only one she would ever speak aloud to, and even then it was only in a whisper.

It was only after a few weeks had passed that John had encountered, not a problem, but a worry, with his children's caretaker. Rose was ill, though she often felt just fine, and tried to hide the fact that she wasn't feeling well at other times. She frequently refused breakfast, finding some task to do in another room of the apartment, looking sick at the very smell of food. At times, she would hurry from the apartment to the bathroom shared by several families on their floor, though she always felt better later, and ate voraciously. When the toddlers went down for their afternoon naps, she joined them, grateful for the rest, and sometimes fell asleep shortly after the children were put to bed for the night.

At first, John had feared that she had caught some contagious disease, one that she might pass on to the children, but after a few days he decided that his initial idea had been wrong, and began to get an inkling of what the real problem was. After about three weeks, he insisted that Rose see a doctor.

Rose had refused at first, insisting that she fine, looking as though she were afraid that the doctor would find something wrong with her, but when John insisted that she either see a doctor, or find a new job, she did as he asked.

That evening, after the children had gone to sleep, John and Rose sat at the small, scarred table in the main room, Rose folding and unfolding a pile of the children's freshly laundered clothes nervously.

"Did you find out what was wrong?" John asked her after a moment.

"Yes." Rose ducked her head, suddenly finding a missing button on Nadia's dress extraordinarily interesting.

"What is it?" He already had a fair idea of what it was, but he wanted Rose to confirm it.

She finally looked at him, her face set, as though daring him to put her out on the street after he heard her news.

"I'm pregnant," she told him bluntly. "The baby is due in January."

John nodded, dismayed but not surprised. Having outlived two wives, he recognized the visible symptoms of pregnancy, but he had half-hoped that he was wrong about Rose. She wasn't married, and he knew what the neighbors would think, how they would gossip. He wasn't the father of her baby; he had never laid a hand on her, but they wouldn't believe that.

"Who is the father?" he asked her, equally bluntly.

She stared back at him. "That's none of your business."

"I think it is."

"It isn't."

"You do know who he is, don't you?"

Rose's face reddened. She gave him an angry look. "Yes," she told him tersely.

"Your ex-fiancé?"

"No!" Rose told him sharply, then clapped a hand over her mouth, realizing that she had said more than she intended. John had also been on the Titanic, in third class, and he might well know about Jack, might have seen them dancing together that night in steerage. If he remembered that, he might put the pieces of the puzzle together, and realize who her baby's father was. Rose winced at the idea. She wasn't ready to talk about Jack; she didn't know if she would ever be ready.

"So it was the other one, then? The one you were dancing with that night?" He couldn't remember the young man's name.

Rose glared at him, irritated that he had figured it out so easily. "I'm his widow," she lied. "We were married the last night on Titanic, and then he died in the sinking."

John looked at her levelly. "You weren't married to him. You just took his name. I saw your fiancé walking around looking for you on the Carpathia." He remembered that much.

"I'm his widow," Rose told him firmly, her voice even and steady. "That's all you need to know. That's what the neighbors will learn if they ask questions."

"They'll ask questions. They already wonder why I have an unmarried woman living in my apartment."

"If I'm still here."

"Are you planning on leaving?"

"That's up to you." Rose looked at him. "This is your apartment, and those are your children. I will understand, of course, if you wish for me to leave."

John looked at the table, thinking. What would he do with another child in the apartment? They were already crowded with the two adults, the two toddlers, and the dog. _What would you have done if Miriam had lived? his conscience nagged him. If Miriam had lived, there might have been another child on the way, and even if she had lost the baby she was carrying, there was a good possibility that she would have conceived again within a short time. Would Rose be able to support her baby on the three dollars a week he paid her? He might be able to afford to give her few cents more, but that was all. Of course, the baby wouldn't be born until January, and she probably wouldn't have to buy food for the child for several months after that._

"Do you want me to leave?" Rose's voice interrupted his thoughts. "If you do, I need to know now, so that I'll have time to try to find a job before my condition becomes visible."

John didn't answer her. Instead, he asked, "Where is...Mr. Dawson?"

Rose stared at him. "He's dead. I told you that. He died in the sinking."

A look of grief came over her face, and John could have kicked himself for asking her that. Of course, she had told him that—at the same time she had said she was his widow. He hadn't believed her, but seeing the near tearful expression on her face, he realized that she was telling the truth. But what to do about her?

He knew what Miriam would have done. She would have allowed Rose to stay there, standing with her against society's condemnation. He could almost sense her watching him, tapping her foot impatiently as she waited for him to make the right decision. What right did he have to put Rose out on the streets? Miriam had been a bastard, and he still loved her in spite of it. How could he condemn Rose for the situation she was in? He didn't why she had done what she had done, or why she had abandoned her fiancé, or how she had wound up living on her own in New York City, and he knew that she wasn't going to tell him.

Aside from that, he realized that Mary and Nadia were already attached to her, and after the trauma of the sinking, and the loss of their mothers, it would be cruel to suddenly send Rose away, leaving them alone or with strangers during the day. Nadia was beginning to come out of herself, and Mary adored her.

He sighed, his mind made up. "You can stay," he told her, "if you want to."

"Thank you for your kindness." Her voice was sarcastic.

"Look, Rose, I can't say that I approve of the situation you're in, but the girls love you, and I'm not going to tear their lives apart again by sending you away."

It was on the tip of Rose's tongue to tell him to find someone else to care for his children, but she knew that he was right. Mary and Nadia had grown attached to her, and she wouldn't simply leave them if she didn't have to.

"I'll stay," she told him quietly. "You can tell the nosy neighbors that I'm your cousin or some such thing if they ask. In my heart, I am a widow, and I will tell people as much—if they ask."

"How are you going to convince people that you're a widow? You don't have a ring."

"A woman has to do something to stay alive when her husband is gone and she is alone. Even if it means selling her wedding ring to survive. I'm obviously not a wealthy woman."

John nodded, still thoughtful. He was concerned about the gossip that would undoubtedly surround them, but he hoped that Rose's story would quiet the wagging tongues. For the sake of Mary and Nadia, he had no choice but to keep things as they were.


	8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

As the months passed, things began to improve for the Calverts. Rose's insistence that she was John's cousin, combined with her story about being widowed on the Titanic, quieted many of the gossips. Both John and Rose had agreed on a story to explain the situation, and they followed this course of action unswervingly. A few people still whispered, but most believed them.

John discreetly watched out for Rose as time passed and her pregnancy became visible. She continued to work as she had before, eschewing the idea that a pregnant woman needed extra rest, even if nothing was wrong, and going out in public without a qualm. Amongst members of the upper class, pregnant woman were often kept hidden away, as though pregnancy were something to be ashamed of, but in the immigrant neighborhood in which they lived, few women had the luxury of confining themselves. There were children to be cared for and jobs to work, though many women gave up working, either temporarily or permanently, when they had children. In a place where day-to-day life was often a struggle, it was rare that a healthy woman would give up the workings of daily life simply because she was in the family way.

As John watched Rose's figure blossom, he couldn't help but wonder what Miriam's child would have looked like, had she and the child lived. The baby would have been born in November, he knew, and he couldn't help but think about what might have been. Would the baby have looked like him, with his brown hair, or like Miriam, pale and blonde? Would it have been a boy or a girl? He knew that Miriam might well have lost the child, even if she had lived, but it didn't stop him from thinking about it.

In spite of, or perhaps because of these memories, he found himself being protective of Rose and her coming child. She had become a substitute mother for the two girls, and the toddlers looked at her growing middle with interest, delighted when she let them feel the baby kicking. Rose made no attempt to explain how the baby had gotten inside her, though Mary asked both adults how it had happened, and when they promised to tell her when she was older, wanted to know if she could have a baby herself. Rose assured her that only grown-up ladies could have babies, and that she would have to wait until she was grown and married before she could have one. Mary sulked for a while at this idea—she liked babies—then forgot about it.

The most remarkable change, however, was in Nadia. Slowly but surely, she had been coming out from behind the wall she had built around herself after the Titanic disaster, eating better, playing with Mary instead of just clinging, and sometimes even playing with the other children at the park Rose often took them to. Nevertheless, she still didn't speak, though she showed signs of beginning to understand the English that was spoken to her, but it wasn't until late in November that she began to speak aloud to anyone but Allegro.

*****

It was Thanksgiving Day, and Rose was working to prepare a modest Thanksgiving dinner. She had insisted that if the Calvert family was going to be American, they needed to celebrate the American holidays, and had arranged for Thanksgiving to be celebrated with two other families in the building. One family had been in the United States for ten years, while the other had arrived that past summer. Rose considered herself an expert on Thanksgiving, having been born and raised an American, so she had organized the gathering.

The three families had split the cost of a turkey, and Rose had asked around until she found recipes for the dishes she remembered from her childhood. Rose herself was preparing the simpler dishes, since she was still learning how to cook, and the women in the other families were cooking the turkey, stuffing, and desserts. Between the three households, there would be nineteen people, more than enough for a traditional family gathering, even if they came from several different families.

As Rose was slicing up the turnips, she noticed the two small children wandering into the cooking area and crawling under the table. They often liked to play house there, with the chairs pushed out to make room, and Rose preferred that they play there while she was cooking, rather than closer to her. Nadia usually sat quietly if Rose told her to, but Mary was far more rambunctious, and would try to run and play near to the hot stove, or play with knives or matches, or try to snatch bits of food. Rose had yelled at her repeatedly for this, but it never seemed to help for long. Mary had ceased trying to grab things off the stove, however, when she had burned herself, and Rose couldn't help but think that maybe she should allow Mary to do as she pleased, and learn from the consequences.

Today, however, Mary and Nadia were content to play under the table. They each had a rag doll that Rose had made for them out of scraps of fabric left over from the couple of maternity dresses she had made for herself, and they sat on the floor, rocking the dolls as they had seen mothers do with their babies, occasionally peeking out at Rose. Allegro gave up begging Rose for scraps and crawled under the table with them.

Mary petted the dog, laying down and putting her head on the animal's side. Allegro licked her, then curled up, groaning softly to himself as Mary squeezed him around the middle. Nadia continued playing with her doll.

After a while, Mary dozed off on the floor, her head pillowed on her doll. Rose glanced at the clock, and realized that it was time for lunch and then naps. She set her cooking aside and moved to wake Mary, but Nadia crawled out from under the table and tugged on Rose's skirt.

"A...An' Wo?" she whispered.

Rose looked at her in surprise. Nadia had never spoken to her before.

"Yes, Nadia?" She knelt down to the little girl's level.

"An' Wose...me...hungy."

Rose hugged Nadia, delighted that she was beginning to talk again. "You're hungry, Nadia?"

The little girl nodded, clutching her doll to her chest.

"Well, that's good, because it's time for lunch. Would you wake up Mary for me?"

Nadia nodded again, crawling back under the table. "Ma'y, Ma'y, wake up." She shook Mary's foot.

Mary woke up, ready to yell at her. "Nada!"

"An' Wose...Ma'y wake up."

"Nada! You talk!" Mary squealed, standing up and hitting her head on the table. She wailed in pain.

After Rose had made sure that Mary wasn't really hurt, she put the two girls at the table and brought them sandwiches and apple slices.

"Nada, talk!" Mary kept insisting.

Finally, Nadia turned and looked at her. "No."

Rose laughed, almost choking on her sandwich. Nadia had just begun talking, and already she had learned the favorite word of two-year-olds everywhere.

"Yes!"

"No no no!"

"Mary! Nadia! That's enough," Rose warned them.

Mary stuffed a slice of apple in her mouth, then reached to grab a slice from Nadia's plate.

As she often did, Nadia shoved Mary's hand away, but before Rose could reprimand the child, Nadia did it for her.

"No! Ma'y bad!"

"You bad!" Mary retorted. "Aunt Wosie..."

"Nadia, finish your lunch. Mary, drink your milk. Then it's nap time."

"No!" both girls wailed in unison.

"Yes." Rose began to clear away the dishes. She yawned exaggeratedly. "I'm sleepy. We'll all take naps." She pretended to fall asleep standing up, making snoring sounds. The girls giggled, their protests forgotten.

*****

When John arrived home that afternoon, the apartment was filled with the smells of food cooking. They would carry the food over to the apartment of one of the other families, who had slightly more space than they did.

Rose turned from the stove to greet him. "Hello."

At that moment, Mary, Nadia, and Allegro crawled from under the table and rushed over to him.

"Daddy!" Mary and Nadia both ran over to him, wrapping their arms around his legs. Allegro whirled in his canine dance of joy.

John was taken aback for a moment. Nadia had shouted along with Mary, and they were both calling him Daddy. He thought for a brief moment about telling Nadia to call him Uncle John, since he claimed her as his niece, but rejected the idea. He was raising the girls as sisters, and as such, they could both call him Daddy.

"Hello, Mary. Hello, Nadia." He picked them both up.

"Daddy, Nada talk!" Mary exclaimed with delight, eager to be the first to give the news.

"Yes, she does," John agreed, setting them down. "When did you start talking, Nadia?"

"Around noon today," Rose told him, walking over. "She said she was hungry."

"Did you?" John asked Nadia.

"Uh-huh." She smiled, showing her tiny white teeth. "Me talk...like Ma'y."

Nadia's speech was far from perfect, but she was speaking again, and she was rapidly picking up the English spoken around her. Mary gave her an exuberant hug, and led her back under the table to resume their game.

John looked at Rose and smiled, both with happiness and relief. He had been right to keep Rose on as the children's caretaker, and Nadia's newfound ability to speak was proof of that.


	9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

January 14, 1913

John put the last bite of his breakfast in his mouth and pushed himself back from the table, heading for the door to go to work. Mary and Nadia waved good-bye to him, their little voices chorusing as they shouted to him.

Rose set about cleaning off the table as soon as John's footsteps had faded away. She moved a bit awkwardly, her swollen middle making it hard to carry the stacks of dishes. At her direction, Mary and Nadia cleared their own dishes from the table and brought them over to the counter, where Rose took them and began to wash them.

Her time was near, Rose knew. It had been exactly nine months to the night she had pulled Jack into the back seat of the Renault with her, and the baby could be born any time. One of the women in the next building had been a midwife in the old country, and she had explained to Rose what to expect. Rose wasn't frightened, not exactly, but the prospect of childbirth did make her nervous.

Rose shrugged off her thoughts as she finished washing the dishes and put them away. The baby would come when it was ready; she had no control over it. She wished that Jack could see the child, but pushed that thought away, too. He was gone; there was no bringing him back, and she would love and care for their child alone.

When the dishes were done, she led Mary and Nadia to their room, where she bundled them up in coats, scarves, and gloves against the chill January weather. Over the months that she had been caring for them, their morning walk had become a ritual, one that they engaged in rain or shine. She would take the children shopping with her when need be, or visit with other women who had young children, or walk with them to the park to play. Every day, she pointed out all the sights and sounds of the city around them, helping the girls grow accustomed to their new home.

This morning, the weather was cold but clear, so Rose took them to the neighborhood park to play. The girls skipped along at her side, chattering to each other and stopping every few feet to examine something interesting. Mary, at three, considered herself to be an expert on everything, bossing Nadia around and trying to command Allegro, neither of whom were particularly inclined to listen to her. Rose and John had estimated Nadia to be a bit younger than Mary, and John had chosen April fifteenth—the day he taken Nadia into his care—as her birthday.

When they reached the park, Rose let Allegro off of his leash, and he followed the girls, barking, to a flat stretch of still-white snow. He ran through it, leaving footprints, as the two small girls slipped and slid in the cold powder. Initially, both Mary and Nadia had feared the cold, the snow, and the ice of the New York winter, remembering subconsciously the ordeal when the Titanic had sank. Both had ended up in the water, Nadia for just a short time before a woman in the lifeboat she had fallen from had picked her up, Mary for a longer time, after Miriam had thrown her in the direction of the boat in hopes that she would find a place in it and survive.

Neither girl consciously remembered much of what had happened, but Rose did. The memories of the little girls were not yet developed enough for them to consciously remember the disaster in more than bits and pieces, but Rose remembered it as though it had been the night before—the bitterly cold water, the screams of the people slowly freezing to death, her own sorrow as she had broken the ice that had frozen her hand to Jack's and watched him sink into the water.

In spite of her memories of that terrible night, Rose knew that the only way to get over her fear of the cold, and to help the children overcome their fears, was to confront it. As winter had approached, and the weather had grown progressively colder, Rose had continued taking them out for walks in the morning chill, showing them ice-encrusted puddles, and later, drifts of snow. Neither girl had wanted to play in the snow at first, afraid of the cold. Rose had pushed down her own dread of the cold and shown them how much fun snow could be to play with, showing them how to build a snowman and how to throw snowballs. Neither child had much experience with the snow; it rarely snowed in London, and seldom lasted long when it did snow, so Mary didn't know what snow was, and Nadia had originally come from the Middle East, a land known for its deserts. Rose, however, had grown up in Philadelphia, and was familiar with snow, and what could be done with it.

The three of them set about building a snowman, while the dog ran around, sniffing and yapping at passers-by, and trying to see what the humans were doing. He finally curled up in a cleared space, insulted, after Mary shoved him away for trying to sit on the snowball she was making.

Rose laughed at the antics of the children and dog as she helped the girls lift the balls of snow on top of each other, constructing a short, lop-sided snowman, which had to be put back together after Nadia slipped and fell against it, knocking it over.

It was late in the morning, when they were searching for sticks and pebbles to make the face of the snowman, that Rose felt the first pains.

She ignored them at first. For several weeks, she had been having occasional pains, false labor, that never progressed. She had been alarmed initially, fearing that something was wrong, but as the weeks passed and she continued to carry her child, she had relaxed, realizing that there was no need to worry.

After a time, however, as Rose and the children were walking home, she realized that these pains were not going to stop. They were coming at closer intervals, tightening around her back and midsection, and she realized that her baby was indeed ready to make an appearance. Her pulse jumped with nervous excitement at the realization, and she hurried the children the rest of the way back to the apartment.

*****

When they got home, Rose puttered around, making lunch for the girls and straightening up the main room. She ate nothing herself, her appetite gone.

"Aunt Wosie? Why you not eat?" Mary asked, watching her straighten up the room.

"I...I'm just not very hungry right now, Mary," she told the child. Her excitement and nervousness over the coming birth, combined with the contractions of her muscles as her body prepared to deliver the child, had robbed her of her appetite.

Mary seemed to accept this, though she still watched curiously as Rose occasionally stopped, holding her distended stomach, waiting for a pain to end.

When the girls had finished eating, Rose put them down for their naps, laying down on her own bed and trying to rest. She hadn't washed the lunch dishes, but that could wait. She stretched out, trying to find a comfortable position.

About an hour later, Nadia awoke, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. She saw Rose lying on her bed, her arms wrapped around her middle.

"Aunt Wose? Wha's wrong?"

Rose opened her eyes to see Nadia looking at her worriedly. Making an effort to smile, she sat up, relieved that pain had ended, and picked the little girl up off her bed, setting her beside her.

"I'm getting ready to have the baby, Nadia," she explained, not expecting the child to understand.

"I wanna see stork."

Rose looked over to see that Mary had awakened and was looking at them excitedly. John had finally told her that babies were brought by storks to quiet her questions about where babies came from. Ever since, Mary had been hoping to see the stork when Rose's baby was born.

Rose thought for a moment, trying to decide how to explain to Mary that she couldn't see the stork without explaining where babies really came from. Mary was a curious child, always asking why, and she wouldn't be satisfied with being told that there was no stork. She would want to know why, and then the questions would start again.

"Only the baby's mother can see the stork," Rose told her. "It's invisible to everyone else. You'll be able to see the baby when it comes, though."

"When it come?"

"Soon."

"I wanna see baby now."

Rose sighed. "You can't, Mary. You can't see it until it's born—"

"Wanna see it now!" Mary screeched and pounded on her mattress, kicking her feet angrily. "Now! Now! Now!"

"Mary, that's enough," Rose warned her. She had no patience with Mary's tantrums right now.

"Yeah, shut up, Ma-wy," Nadia told her, standing on Rose's bed and giving the other girl a superior look. Mary was in trouble, and not her.

"Nadia, that's not nice," Rose told her, making her sit back down.

Surprisingly, Mary quieted, looking angrily at Nadia. "Dumb Nada," she mumbled, sliding off the bed and heading for the main room.

Rose set Nadia on the floor and followed Mary out, the younger child trailing after her.

*****

For the rest of the afternoon, Rose supervised the children. Mary soon forgave Nadia for telling her to shut up, and the two played companionably with a set of wooden blocks that John had given them for Christmas. Rose washed the dishes and dusted the room between contractions, anxious for something to pass the time.

Finally, she sat down in one of chairs, watching the girls play, waiting as the contractions grew closer and closer together. Around six o'clock, she forced herself to get up and prepare a meal for John, Mary, and Nadia, though the pains were growing longer and harder to stand through.

At 6:30, John walked in the door, home from another day at the factory. The girls ran to greet him, Mary shouting out the news before Nadia could beat her to it.

"Daddy, Aunt Wosie waiting for stork!"

John looked inquiringly at Rose, wondering what was happening.

"The baby's coming," Rose told him, turning from the stove. Another contraction hit her at that moment, and she grimaced, holding her belly until the pain had passed. "Would you please go find Mrs. Anderson?"

"The midwife?"

Rose nodded. "She lives in the building to our left, in apartment 3R. She already agreed to help me when the baby is born."

"How long have you been in labor?" John asked her.

"Since about mid-morning."

"Why didn't you get her earlier?"

"I was watching the children," Rose pointed out. "Besides, there's time. It will be a while before the baby is born, I think."

Shaking his head, John left to find the midwife. Marian Anderson was originally from a small village in northern England, and had been a well-respected midwife there. When she and her husband had come to the United States, she had continued practicing among the neighborhood women, charging them much less than a doctor would have, but providing them with decent care, not always available to the poorer women of the area. She sometimes bragged about how few babies had been lost under her care, and in an area with a relatively high infant mortality rate, that was something that people respected, and she had no shortage of work.

Hoping that John would hurry back with Mrs. Anderson, Rose gave the children their dinner, working around the ever more frequent contractions.

*****

John returned about fifteen minutes later, Mrs. Anderson walking beside him, a bag of instruments in her hand. She ushered Rose into the small bedroom she shared with the children, while John finished feeding them and cleaned up.

Escorting the children into his own room, he got them ready for bed. Rose had brought out their nightgowns before settling down to await the birth of her child, so he got them changed and tucked them into his bed, sitting down beside them to tell them a bedtime story. The bedtime story was a nightly ritual, usually conducted in their own room while Rose took a break from the girls' constant demands.

Mary and Nadia were distracted this night, frightened by the occasional sounds coming from the other room—Rose crying out in pain, the midwife trying to soothe her. They paid little attention to the story he told them, though it was one of their favorites, _Little Red Riding Hood. When he got to the part where the wolf gobbled Red Riding Hood up, Mary usually squealed with delight, while Nadia hid under the covers as he pretended to pounce on them. Tonight, however, they were too distracted by the activity in the next room to pay attention._

John finally gave up, tucking them into bed and giving them each a kiss on the forehead, telling them to go to sleep. Five minutes after he left the room, Mary came out, saying that she was thirsty, and soon Nadia followed, saying that she was scared. Finally acknowledging that they were not going to sleep as long as they were waiting for Rose's baby to be born, he set them both in his lap, trying to distract them with more stories.

After half-listening to him for a few minutes, Mary wanted to know what was going on in the other room.

"Wha's wong with Aunt Wosie, Daddy?"

"She's having a baby, Mary. Sometimes, when women have babies, it hurts."

"What about stork? Doesn't stork bing baby?"

"Sort of." John thought for a moment, then explained, "You know how she has that big tummy, and the baby keeps kicking inside her?"

Mary nodded.

"Well, the baby has to come out of her, and the stork is going to help."

Mary screwed her face up, trying to picture this. Then she nodded, satisfied that she knew the answer. "The stork opens her tummy with i's beak, and takes out the baby. Wight, Daddy?"

John shuddered at the mental picture of a stork opening a woman's abdomen to deliver a baby, but didn't correct the child. "That's right, Mary. The stork helps get the baby out."

*****

Rose gasped, her body drenched in sweat. It was well past midnight, and she had been in labor for hours. The pains were so close together as to allow almost no break, but the baby was not yet born. Mrs. Anderson examined her repeatedly, assuring her that she was doing fine, and that the baby would be born before long.

Just after two o'clock in the morning, Rose sensed a change in her body, and, at the midwife's direction, commenced pushing. It was hard work, but she continued to bear down, breathing hard and crying out in pain, as she struggled to bring her child into the world.

At 2:20, Rose half sat up, giving one last push. The baby slid from her body, announcing its arrival with a wail as it took its first breath.

Mrs. Anderson cut the umbilical cord, cleaning the baby and checking it over. "You have a healthy son," she told Rose, giving her the baby. "He has a mass of hair on his head and a strong set of lungs."

Rose took the baby, noticing the time on the midwife's pocket watch. 2:20 AM. _How fitting, she thought. Her baby had been born exactly nine months after the disaster that had taken his father._

Cradling the newborn close, she examined him, counting the tiny fingers and toes, smoothing the thicket of pale blonde hair on the infant's head. He opened his eyes for a moment before returning to crying, and Rose saw that his eyes were a deep shade of blue, just like his father's. _Thank you, Jack_, she thought silently. _We have a beautiful, healthy baby boy, who looks just like you. I promise, I will do my best for him._

"What are you going to name him?" Mrs. Anderson asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Rose considered that for only a moment. "Christopher Jack Dawson," she told her, looking at the tiny boy in her arms. Christopher, for his maternal grandfather, and Jack, for his father. Neither man would ever see his namesake, but she had known when she looked at the baby what his name should be.

*****

Once Mrs. Anderson had Rose cleaned up and settled into bed, she allowed the other members of the household to see her and the child. Mary and Nadia had finally fallen asleep in John's arms, but had awakened at the sound of the baby's cry, and were eager to see the new member of their "family." As soon as they were allowed, they dashed into the room to see their caretaker and her new baby.

John followed more slowly, seeing the girls standing beside Rose's bed, staring in fascination at the newborn. Rose was sitting up, several pillows propped up behind her, holding the infant in her arms. She was dressed in a warm, clean nightgown, looking exhausted but content. At her nod of consent, he lifted the children up onto her bed to see the infant more clearly.

They were both in awe of the tiny baby, reaching out to touch the little face and hands. Christopher turned his head when Nadia touched his cheek, his mouth working. One tiny fist curled around Mary's fingers as she touched the infant's hands.

"Wha's his name?" Mary asked, tugging on Rose's sleeve to get her attention. Rose was growing drowsy.

"His name is Christopher," Rose told her. "Christopher Dawson."

"Chistoph," Mary repeated, trying to pronounce the name.

"You can call him Chris," Rose told her, trying to make it easier to pronounce.

"Kiss," Mary replied, taking her fingers away from the baby.

"Cwis," Nadia added, giggling as the baby got one of her fingers into his mouth and sucked on it. "Funny."

"He likes you," Rose told the girls, sitting up a bit more and cradling the newborn against her chest.

"He does?" Mary shook the tiny fist. "I'm Mary, and this is Nada."

Rose laughed at the little girl's imitation of adult greetings. "He can't talk yet, Mary, but he will soon. Will you and Nadia help him learn?"

"Uh-huh." Nadia slid down from the bed as John came over to take a closer look at the baby. "Daddy, look!"

"Yes, Nadia. He's cute, isn't he?"

"Uh-huh."

"Now, it's time for you and Mary to go to bed."

"No!" Mary whined.

"The baby will still be here in the morning," Rose assured her. "He's going to sleep in here with us." She pointed to the second-hand cradle she had bought and set up for the baby.

"Okay." Mary yawned tiredly, allowing John to tuck her into bed. "'Night, Aunt Wosie. 'Night, Kiss."

"Yeah," Nadia added. "Night-night."

It was only minutes before the two little girls, worn out by the long, exciting day, were sound asleep. John sat down on the edge of Rose's bed, looking more closely at the infant.

The now-sleeping baby had unruly blonde hair, a little lighter than Miriam's had been. Looking at the infant, he couldn't help but wonder what a child of Miriam and himself would have looked like. With Miriam's pale blonde hair and blue eyes, a baby of theirs might have looked very much like this one.

Rose seemed to sense what he was thinking, for she reached out and patted his hand, looking at him understandingly. She, too, had lost a loved one to the Titanic, but she had his child to remember him by.

John took the baby from a very sleepy Rose, tucking him into his cradle and rocking him until he fell back asleep. Rose was asleep by the time he looked up, and he felt a surprising wave of tenderness as he tucked the blankets up around her chin.

He stood in the doorway for a moment, looking at the sleeping group. As his eyes passed over Rose, he thought, for the first time in a long time, about her last name. Dawson. Miriam's birth father had also been named Dawson, and he couldn't help but wonder if there was some relation between the father of Rose's child and Miriam's father. The blonde-haired, blue-eyed infant looked so much like Miriam, he could have been her son, and remembered that the young man Rose had taken up with, whose name she had taken, looked very much the same.

He wondered, briefly, if they might be related, and thought about questioning Rose to see if she knew anything about the family of her young man, but he knew that she wouldn't answer him. She seemed to want to keep her past a secret, and he could no more make her tell him what she knew than he could make the speechless infant talk. Any connection between Miriam and Christopher's father would remain a secret, something only hinted at in his mind.


	10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

May, 1916

Rose moved around the small apartment, dusting and sweeping. From the corner, she could hear Nadia and Christopher laughing over some game.

Rose stretched and put the dust cloth into a pile of clothes to be washed. Much had happened over the four years that she had been living with the Calverts, caring for John's daughters. Mary was six years old and in school now, and Nadia would start school the following fall. Christopher was three years old, a mischievous, energetic child who reminded her more of his father every day.

They had moved from the tiny apartment in the slums two years earlier, when John had been promoted to foreman of his department at the factory, and now lived in a somewhat larger apartment a few blocks away from the factory. There was more space for all of them, enough room so that the two girls had a bedroom to themselves, while Rose shared a room with her son, and John slept alone. There was even a separate kitchen and living room, and Rose was housekeeper as well as caretaker for the children.

Sometimes, Rose looked around at her small, confined world, and wondered what had happened to her plans to head out for the horizon. It wasn't that she disliked the Calverts, or their home, but she had left the upper class behind with the idea of finding something different, something that she hadn't experienced before. So far, aside from learning domestic labor and becoming a mother, she hadn't done much, and her life was in many ways as restricted as it had been before she had left her old life behind.

Rose often looked longingly at audition notices in the city, still dreaming of becoming an actress, though she was now twenty-one years old and had done little outside the home in her life. John didn't consciously put restrictions on her, but she knew that he felt that her primary job was in caring for the children, and as long as she remained in his employ, this was what she had to focus her energies on. Still, Nadia was nearly ready to start school, and if she left, Christopher would come with her. They wouldn't really need her anymore, though she knew that the girls had grown attached to her. It would be hard to leave them behind, and she wasn't sure if she could make it on her own, especially with a small child, but she wanted to try. For the time being, though, she was still needed as nanny to the girls, and she would at least wait until fall to make any changes.

A knock sounded on the door as she put the broom away, and she hurried to answer it, shooing the two children and the barking dog back. It was a safer neighborhood than the one they had left behind, but one never knew who might knock on the door uninvited.

A man in the uniform of an upper class servant stood at the door. "Good morning, ma'am. Would Mr. Calvert be about?"

Rose shook her head. "He's at work right now. May I tell him who dropped by?"

"There's no need, ma'am. I'm from the home of his mother-in-law, Elizabeth Anders. She sent me to bring this letter, since it seems that you don't yet have a telephone."

"No, we don't," Rose told him, taking the sealed white envelope. John's name and address were written on it.

"Please see that he gets it as soon as possible. Mrs. Anders says that it's urgent."

"May I ask what it's about?"

"I really can't say, ma'am. I was only instructed to bring the letter. I wasn't told what it said."

"All right." Rose set the letter on a high shelf near the door, out of the reach of Christopher's curious fingers. "I'll give it to him as soon as he gets home."

"Thank you, Ma'am."

Rose closed the door, her own curiosity almost overwhelming her. Why was Elizabeth Anders having someone deliver a letter to them?

They had seen her on many occasions over the past few years, though never at her own home. James Anders disliked his working class son-in-law, and wanted no part of him, his daughters, or his "cousin" and her son. It was just as well, Rose thought, that he didn't want to see them. She had no wish to return to the upper class, even as a visitor, and sometimes worried that Elizabeth would realize that she had once been Rose DeWitt Bukater, and that word would get back to her mother. Rose knew that she no longer had anything to fear from Cal, as he had married in 1914, but she had no intention of returning to her old life. Fortunately, Elizabeth had never made the connection, or if she had, she had never mentioned it.

On the occasions when they had seen Elizabeth, she had visited them at their apartment, or had met them somewhere nearby, sometimes taking the children places that John could not afford to take them, or had not the time for. Rose usually accompanied them, and Christopher was as inclined to call the older woman Grandma as the two girls were. John had told Rose that Elizabeth had accepted Mary and Nadia as her granddaughters after learning of Miriam's death. They were the only grandchildren she would have, and even though they were no relation to her, she had taken them under her wing because they were John's daughters, and, as such, Miriam's stepdaughters, though Miriam had died before Nadia had become a member of the family.

Christopher also called her Grandma, and had ever since he had learned to talk. No one had ever bothered to correct him. Elizabeth was Grandma, Rose was Mommy, and John was Uncle John. Mary and Nadia had no particular classification; they were cousins, Rose had told him, but he cared about little beyond the fact that they were playmates and sometimes tormentors. He had asked Rose on occasion why he didn't have a daddy like other children did, but Rose had always shaken her head and told him that his daddy was in heaven, watching over him.

*****

When John got home late that afternoon, Rose gave him the letter, then lingered nearby, hoping that he would tell her what it said. She had eventually given up holding it to the light and trying to read the words through the paper, but she was still curious, and cast sidelong glances at John as he read it.

When he finally set it aside, she could no longer restrain her curiosity. "What's going on?" she asked, looking at the paper lying on the table.

John looked a little bewildered. "It seems that my father-in-law died of a stroke just last week, and in his will he left everything to his wife, who it seems is his only living relation. The odd thing is, she says that she needs my help with certain aspects of the will."

"Your help?"

He nodded. "I can't imagine why. I'm not a lawyer, nor someone familiar with what she now owns. The only thing I can think of is that she might want to give something to Mary and Nadia. At any rate, she wants us all to come to visit this coming Sunday, so she can discuss the will with us. I don't imagine that James Anders left anything to any of us, but Elizabeth has taken the girls as her granddaughters, and she might want to give something to them."

"That might be. Are you going to visit with her on Sunday?"

"I think so. The girls will want to see her, and we haven't visited the house since we arrived back in 1912. You'll bring Christopher, too, of course."

"Of course. He thinks she's his grandmother, too."

"Well, you'll probably like seeing the house. I don't know if the girls remember it, but it should seem like old times to you. It's an elaborate mansion in a wealthy part of the city."

Rose nodded, but she wasn't so sure she wanted to come. Who knew who she might meet in that neighborhood? She had studiously avoided places that she would have frequented as a member of the upper class, and she didn't know if she wanted to go back and face her memories.

*****

On Sunday, the Calverts and the Dawsons took the El as close as they could to Elizabeth Anders' upper class neighborhood. They walked the rest of the way, the children in awe of the stately houses and well-groomed lawns, so different from the apartment they lived in. John, too, looked at the houses with admiration, wondering what it would take to have such a house. Certainly, it would cost much more than he was ever likely to be able to afford.

Rose's thoughts were turned inward as they walked along the wide, well cared for streets. Holding Christopher by the hand, she looked at the buildings, at the people on the yards and walking along the sidewalks, remembering when she had been a part of this world. It had been a long time, so long that she scarcely remembered what it was like to live in a fancy house, with servants to wait upon her and every imaginable luxury hers for the asking. She had given that life up, and she wasn't sorry, but there were times when she remembered this life longingly, for it hadn't been all bad. It spite of the strictures imposed upon upper class women, she had known times of happiness growing up, before her father had died and her mother had begun to impress upon her the importance of making a good marriage to shore up the sagging family fortunes.

Rose pushed these thoughts away as they turned up the walk of a large, three-story brick mansion, not unlike the one she had grown up in. A wrought-iron fence surrounded the house, and the lawn and gardens were neatly groomed, daffodils blooming in profusion along the fence.

Elizabeth herself answered the door, not waiting for a servant to do it for her. She was dressed in black, the color of mourning, but her appearance was calm and collected, showing little grief over her husband's death. James and Elizabeth had not gotten along well in years, and had scarcely seen each other since the news of Miriam's death had reached them four years earlier, in spite of living in the same house. The mansion was more than large enough for them to lead separate lives, in spite of living under the same roof. It had been a servant who had first discovered James after his stroke, and it had been that same servant who had told Elizabeth that he had died, two days later. She had attended the funeral, and shown proper mourning, but she hadn't really been sorry that he was gone. The affection she had felt for him in the early years of their marriage had long since disappeared, replaced by enmity at times, and, more often, indifference. They had been married in name only for many years, even before Miriam had been born.

"Welcome," she told them, smiling at the group.

The three children ran up and hugged her, shouting "Grandma!"

Elizabeth hugged each child in turn, then sent them to the kitchen for a snack. Rose looked questioningly at her, and she nodded, gesturing for her to follow the children while she talked to John.

Elizabeth led John to the study, where she sat down behind the large mahogany desk that had once belonged to her husband. Reaching into a drawer, she drew out a stack of papers, neatly printed and signed, the last will and testament of James Anders.

"You...ah...wished to discuss the will with me?" John inquired, looking from Elizabeth to the stack of papers.

"In a manner of speaking. As I told you in my letter, I inherited everything from my late husband—including his business interests. I now head the entire Anders financial empire, and I've already detected several areas that need improvement. That's where you come in."

"Me? How so?"

"I'm looking for someone I can trust to take charge of certain aspects, such as hiring, union negotiations, and quality control. You already have experience in union negotiations and quality control, and I've no doubt you understand what qualities are needed in an employee. I spoke with your supervisor last week, and he has a very high opinion of you, of your ability to resolve conflicts and make sure that the work is being done properly. The employees also have a high opinion of you, which is unusual, from what I've seen. Many of the people currently employed with Anders are unhappy, to say the least. It seems that my late husband considered profits above all else, to the point where even the management was upset with the way things were being run. As I'm sure you recall, Miriam disliked her father's business practices, and never missed an opportunity to undermine his position. The fact of the matter is, things have gotten to the point where we will have massive strikes, and subsequent loss of profits, if something isn't done. You have worked both at the bottom of the workforce, and farther up, so you have the ability to understand where both sides are coming from."

"I'm not sure what it is you're asking."

"I'm trying to hire you away from the competition. I want you in charge of relations between the management and the employees, as well as having a voice in the hiring process and in quality control. We need someone who understands and can implement these things, and my instincts tell me that you are both trustworthy and capable of managing such a position."

"I don't know," John told her. "I really don't have that much experience."

"Neither do many new managers, but they learn, or they fail, and you are in a position to understand both sides of the employee-management conflict. You also understand what kind of people are needed to fill jobs, and how to make sure those jobs are being done correctly. You would receive training, of course, and any business education deemed necessary. It would be a great step up for you, getting you off the noisy factory floor and putting you in a position where you can effect positive change. Additionally, it would mean a great deal more money, which would be good for you and the girls."

"And if you're wrong? If I can't take charge as you expect me too?"

"Then Anders may collapse, but if it doesn't, you will be guaranteed a job somewhere else in the company—if you want it."

"That's a lot of pressure."

"I think you're up to the task, and at any rate, you won't be doing it alone. I have been spending a considerable amount of time in the boardroom, the offices, and the working areas, finding out how things are done. I am looking for people who can turn things around, improve conditions overall. Would you be willing to try it?"

John sat quietly for several minutes, considering. He had a steady job, one that paid the bills and kept the people under his care fed and sheltered. On the other hand, he didn't anticipate moving up much from where he was, and the idea of being a manager was appealing, even if it was taking a risk. He supposed that if it didn't work, he could find another factory job somewhere, and Elizabeth was right—it would be good for his family to have the additional income such a job would bring.

John had made up his mind. "I'll do it," he told his mother-in-law, shaking her hand firmly.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

It was not until the next day that John told Rose of his decision. He was sitting at the table in the kitchen, the door open, while she washed the dinner dishes. In the main room, Mary, Nadia, and Christopher squealed with delight at some game, while Allegro lay across the doorway, licking his paws.

"Elizabeth has offered me a job," he told her, "and I have accepted."

"What kind of job?" Rose asked him, looking up from the sink.

"As a manager for Anders. She inherited everything from her late husband, and she is looking for people who can be a bridge between the management and the workers. I have experience both as a worker and as a foreman, so she thinks I can do this."

Rose was silent for a moment. "It's a great opportunity for you," she said at last, turning to dry the stack of dishes.

"You don't sound very happy."

"I suppose you'll be moving uptown, taking your place in the higher social strata."

"I suppose I will...if it works out. It's too soon to tell what will happen."

"Be careful if you move up in society. It looks so nice on the outside, but inside...there's a lot of backbiting, snobbery, and clannish behavior. The upper class doesn't like to let outsiders in, especially new money."

"I hardly think I'll be moving into the ranks of the upper class."

"You will...financially, anyway. I've known you for four years, and if anyone can succeed, it's you. Just be careful that you don't forget your beginnings. Many people do...and then they look down on those whose circumstances are humbler than theirs, and forget that they were once a part of those humble beginnings, too."

John considered Rose's words. He knew that she, like Miriam, had abandoned her upper class life in favor of the simpler, if more laborious, life of the lower classes. He had sensed a growing restlessness in her, a desire to leave the secure life he had built, and strike out on her own, for good or ill. He paid her a decent salary, and provided a home and food for Rose and her son, but he knew that, in some ways, she wasn't satisfied. Rose wanted to experience all that the world had to offer, and she wasn't doing so working as a housekeeper and nanny.

"It would mean more money," he told her. "I could hire more help, so you wouldn't have to work as hard. You would have more time to spend with Christopher, more time to do the things you want."

Rose shook her head. "I won't be coming with you," she told him. "I lived as a member of the upper class once, and I won't do it again—not even as a servant." She turned to look at him. "I've been thinking about this for a long time, John. I was planning to stay until Nadia started school, when you would no longer need me to watch her. I'm twenty-one years old, and I've done little in my life. There's so many things I want to do before I settle down—travel, see what's in the world, perhaps start a career. I've lived in New York City for four years now, and I lived in Philadelphia before that. Aside from going to Europe a couple of times, and going to finishing school in upstate New York, I haven't really been anywhere. I have a three-year-old son, but I'm not married, and I never have been. I want more out of life than just domestic work."

"If I were to succeed in this job, and move uptown and hire more staff, you would be in charge of them—running the household, so to speak. You wouldn't be so much a maid as a manager yourself."

"But it isn't what I want." Rose sat down at the table. "John, please try to understand. It's not that I dislike this job, or you, or Mary and Nadia. I just feel that it's time for me to move on, to find my place in the world."

"And what about Christopher? What will you do with him while you're making your place in the world?"

"He'll come with me, of course. He's my son, and I will do everything I can to see that he is provided for. But I can't go back to the world I left—not even for his sake. I don't want him growing up in that world."

"I could refrain from joining the upper class. I never aspired to it, never expected to be a part of it. The middle class would suit me well enough, and Mary and Nadia, too."

Rose looked at him, surprised. "You would do that for me? Give up the chance to be a member of high society?"

"I...yes, I would." John realized that he would give up the power and status that would come with being a member of the upper class, for Rose's sake. He had come to care for her in the years that she had lived in his household, caring for his daughters.

"Why?"

John looked at her, suddenly realizing he had backed himself into a corner. He couldn't tell her why he would remain a member of the middle class without admitting his feelings for her. Their relationship had remained platonic over the years, and he had no wish to drive her away with ill-timed declarations of affection.

"Mary and Nadia need you," he told her, knowing that he would miss her as much as they did if she left. "You've become like a mother to them."

Rose nodded. The girls treated her as though she were their mother, though they still called her Aunt Rose. Neither of them remembered their own mothers, so far as she could tell, though Nadia still sometimes called out in her sleep in a foreign language, one that she never spoke consciously. Could she leave them, after being their caretaker for so many years?

"I'd keep in touch," she assured him, feeling guilty even as she said the words. Both girls had lost their mothers; Mary had lost two mothers. But Rose wouldn't be lost to them; she would simply be moving on. She was only a nanny, only a caretaker...but she knew that the girls trusted her, and would be devastated if she left. But if she stayed, her own bitterness toward the life that she lived would eventually drive them apart. This wasn't what she wanted out of life. There were so many things that she wanted to do, so many places that she wanted to see, and she couldn't do that if she stayed. But could she simply leave them behind?

As though reading her thoughts, John told her, "They'd miss you, especially Nadia. Mary—Mary is strong. She's used to people leaving. But Nadia..." He shook his head. "I don't know how Nadia would handle it."

Rose remembered all too well how devastated Nadia had been by the sinking of the Titanic and the loss of her mother, but she knew as well that being cared for by a bitter, unhappy woman wasn't the answer—and that was certainly what she would become in time. She would always look at the girls and think of what she had given up for them, of what might have been—and they would all suffer for it. Were they her own children, Rose would have had no qualms about taking them with her as she headed out into life, but they weren't hers; she couldn't take them with her, and she knew that John would not give up his career so that Rose could fulfill her dreams.

"Nadia is growing up, John. She's not a baby anymore. In a few months, she'll be going to school. She'll make new friends outside of her own home. She won't...won't need me. She'll have you, and Mary, and...whoever you hire to help care for them. And...and I'll still be around. I'll write often, come to visit if I can."

"And they'll still feel abandoned." John knew that he was being unfair, using the girls to keep Rose with him, but he didn't want her to leave. He couldn't bring himself to tell her how he truly felt, but he couldn't simply watch her walk away, either.

"In time...in time they'll understand. If I stay, eventually I will come to resent them, to resent the fact that I never even tried to do the things I've dreamed of. I would be unhappy, and ultimately, so would they."

"You wouldn't have to be a nanny and housekeeper. You could do anything you want...establish a career, travel. I'm sure they'd enjoy traveling with you."

"And how would you then explain my presence in your home?" Rose smiled ruefully. "You can explain a nanny for your children, but an unmarried woman living in your home, working for herself? I just don't think it would work. Especially not with Christopher. I know how people can talk, and it would be nothing short of scandalous."

"You could become my wife." John spoke the words before he thought about it.

Rose stared at him, not quite believing what she had heard. "What?"

"I said, you could become my wife. Then there would be no problem of your living with me, being a mother to Mary and Nadia. It would give Christopher the legitimacy of my name, too—if you wanted."

"John, I..." Rose didn't know what to say. She had lived with him for four years, had cared for his children—but she didn't love him in the way he deserved, in the way she had vowed she would love the man she married. She liked him, respected him—but she didn't love him. She wasn't ready to love again, even four years after Jack's death. She wasn't ready to make the decision to settle down, to stay with anyone for the rest of her life. It would be easy to marry John, and her life would be stable and serene. There would be no struggle, no worry over where the next meal was coming from, or if she had the resources to give her son what he needed.

It would be easy, but it wouldn't be right. John would be happy with her for a while, and she might even be content with him for a time, but eventually they would come to despise each other. She wasn't ready to be tied down, and he needed a wife who could truly commit herself to him, as Miriam had. Maybe one day she would be ready to settle down, and marry, and have more children, but not yet.

"I can't," she told him, looking down. "I'm just...I'm not ready to settle down, to marry. I..."

"You would still be able to do the things you want," he assured her. "Establish your own career, travel...anything you want to do."

Rose shook her head. It sounded so tempting...the ability to do the things she wanted, without having to worry about what the future would hold—but it wouldn't be right. John was a good man, and she couldn't use him that way. If she were to marry him now, it would be no different than if she had married Cal—she would be marrying him for what he could give her, not because she loved him. It wouldn't be fair to either of them, or to the children who would be caught in the middle.

"No, John." She spoke softly. "It wouldn't be right. I...I don't love you—not in the way you deserve. I'm not ready to...to love again, to marry anyone. I need to strike out on my own, to see if I can do it, whatever the consequences. Maybe someday, I'll be ready—but not now. I would wind up hurting you, and I don't want to do that. You're a good man, and you deserve better than that." She stood, untying her apron and draping it over the chair.

"Rose..."

"I'm sorry, John. I don't want to hurt you, and someday you'll see that I was right." She turned to leave the kitchen, then turned back for a moment. "I will stay until Nadia starts school—long enough to let the girls understand why I'm leaving, and that it has nothing to do with them—or with you. I...I promise to keep in touch, to write often. If I am nearby, I will visit...but I have to move on. I can't stay where I am, and never know if it was the right thing to do or not. No matter what happened, I would always wonder if I should have gone my own way, and I would wind up taking it out on you and the children." She turned to leave again.

"Rose."

She glanced back at John.

"If things don't work out, if you ever need help, I'll be here. You can come back any time, if you need to."

Rose nodded. "Thank you, John. I'll remember that, and...I hope that life goes well for you, that you succeed in your work—and that you find a woman who will be right for you, who can give you the love you deserve."

With that, she walked out of the kitchen, closing the door quietly behind her, leaving John with his own thoughts.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

July, 1917

It had been ten months since Rose had left, catching a train to California early in September of 1916. Mary and Nadia missed her, but she wrote to them often, telling them about life in California and her new-found career as an actress. Mary was fascinated with Rose's stories, and vowed that someday she too would become an actress.

John had initially been surprised at Rose's decision to move so far away, but, though she had never said anything, he soon came to realize that she had wanted to put some distance between them. His proposal hadn't frightened her off, not exactly, but she knew that it would be uncomfortable if they were living in the same city, running across each other frequently, so she had followed her dream of becoming an actress and moved across the country to California.

Rose had stayed long enough to see Nadia start school, and to help the Calverts become established in their new home after John had taken the management job. They weren't upper class, but their standard of living was much higher than it had been. No longer did they live in a small apartment, with the girls sharing a room. They had moved to a house on the edge of the city, with enough space that each member of the household had a room to call their own, with additional space left over. John had hired a new housekeeper, as well as an afternoon caretaker for Mary and Nadia when Rose had left.

The arrangement had worked well thus far, but now John found himself wishing that Rose was still with them, and wondered if there was any way he could get her to come back to New York for a time. He could easily hire a full-time caretaker for his daughters, but he wanted someone they could rely upon and trust. He had received a draft notice on July second.

John had become a citizen in 1914, and had been able to make Mary and Nadia citizens along with him. He had legally adopted Nadia a few months later, making her truly a member of his family. The downside to being an American citizen, he had discovered, was that he was expected to be a part of the things that other American citizens had to take part in—such as going to war. He hadn't objected to most things expected of a citizen, such as serving on a jury or voting, but leaving his daughters behind and going to war was another matter.

Of course, John realized that had he stayed in England, he probably would have wound up going to war anyway. But, had he stayed in England, he wouldn't have had the problem of what to do with his children while he was away. Had he and Miriam not sailed on the Titanic, she would still be alive and well, and he could safely leave Mary in her care. But Miriam was gone, and had they not sailed on Titanic, he never would have adopted Nadia.

There was no use in thinking about what might have been. He had to deal with the reality of the situation. He was a single father who had been drafted to fight in the war in Europe, and he had to find some way of caring for his daughters while he was gone.

He couldn't very well leave them to fend for themselves. Mary was only seven years old, and Nadia six. He doubted that he could get Rose to give up her career to take care of them while he was gone, though she probably would allow him to send the girls across the country to her. She would do her best for them, but he didn't want to put that burden on her. If he didn't come back, she might well wind up raising them, with little money and few resources. In spite of her blossoming career as an actress, John knew that she was not well-off financially, barely making enough to support herself and her son. He could provide for Mary and Nadia for a time, but if he didn't come back, he knew that the money would run out eventually, and he couldn't bring himself to place that burden on her.

The question still remained of what to do with the girls while he was gone. He supposed that he could hire someone to stay with them, but he needed to ensure that they were provided for in the event that he didn't return.

He read the draft notice over once more, thinking. He had to report for basic training soon, and he needed to have something arranged for his children before then. He wasn't even sure if he had the money to hire someone to care for them on a long-term basis. He had no idea how long he would be away, or even if he would return. Mary and Nadia were much too young to take care of themselves, but he doubted he could get out of serving his country for their sake.

The girls were well-established in their home and in their lives, and he didn't want to disrupt them too much. It would be hard enough having their father gone, but to disrupt their lives would be even harder on them. That they would survive, he had no doubt, but he didn't want to upset them any more than necessary. He would send them to Rose if he had to, but he far preferred to make arrangements closer to home, if possible.

John sat for a long time, thinking about what to do. Late into the night, long after the two youngsters had gone to bed, he continued to wrack his brain for a solution. At last, in the wee hours of the morning, he realized what he could do.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

July 5, 1917

John walked into Elizabeth's office the next morning. "There's a matter I need to discuss with you," he told her, as soon as she had set the pile of papers she was perusing aside.

"Go ahead." She gestured for him to have a seat.

John sat down, glancing around the tastefully decorated office. Over the past fourteen months, Elizabeth had proven to be as astute at business as her late husband, and far more shrewd about employee relations. Her work in smoothing things over between employees and management had increased production greatly, with far less time being lost to strikes and deliberate slowdowns in production. The business, which had been in slow decline for several years, had increased its profits over the past year, once the management got used to having a woman in charge. Things were looking up.

"I received a draft notice three days ago," John told her, showing her the telegram.

"This is a problem." Elizabeth sat back in her chair, looking at the draft notice. "I will have to find someone to take your place while you're gone. You're a hard act to follow, John, I'll say that. Of course, your job will be waiting for you when you return."

"Is there any way you can use your influence to keep me here instead of going to Europe, or wherever I might be sent? I wouldn't ask, but there is the problem of what to do with Mary and Nadia while I'm gone. I thought of sending them to Rose in California, but I don't want to put that burden on her. She has enough to think about as it is, and I have no one else I can rely on to take care of them. They're much too young to be left to fend for themselves, of course, no matter how grown-up Mary thinks she is."

Elizabeth set the telegram on the desk in front of her. "I wish that I could keep you here, as a necessary part of the company, but I somehow doubt that I could. I've already tried to keep several men from being drafted, without notable success. The excuse is always that I can undoubtedly find someone to take their place. Quite frankly, I think I would have more influence if I were a man, but I'm not, and I just don't command the same respect that James would have."

John shook his head. "From what I'm told, you run things better than he ever did."

Elizabeth half-smiled. "Be that as it may, bias against women in power is a fact, and I can't suddenly change it, no matter how advantageous it would be. However…" She paused. "I may be able to help you with Mary and Nadia. They are my granddaughters, after all, and they would be more than welcome to stay with me while you're away."

"I thank you for the offer, Elizabeth, but you're away so much..."

"As are you, though perhaps not as much as me, since I have no reason to stay home instead of going on business trips and the like. Notwithstanding, I am still their grandmother, and have an interest in their well-being. You're right, of course, that they're much too young to fend for themselves, and while I know that they love Rose, and she would be an excellent caretaker while you're gone, she has another career now, and she wouldn't have the time to look after them properly, nor the money to hire someone to watch them. I'm amazed that she does what she does with one child to care for, let alone three. If the girls come to stay with me for the duration, I will cut back on my traveling, except for those trips where I can bring them along, and hire a governess for them, who will look after them while I am here. They will have to change schools, of course, but this is summer, so it won't be such a hard transition as changing in the middle of the year." She thought for a moment. "When do you have to report?"

John had already memorized every word of the telegram. "August first."

"Of course." Elizabeth looked at the telegram again, confirming his words. "You don't have to leave them with me, but they would be in a familiar environment, and well cared for and provided for while you're gone. That's important, because they will worry about you. Children generally don't like it when a parent will be gone for a long time, as you may be, and it could be even more difficult for them, since they have no mother."

John steepled his fingers, thinking. What Elizabeth said made sense, though he had never considered leaving the girls with her before. Many children did stay with their grandparents under such circumstances, but he had never thought of Elizabeth as one to keep them while he was away. Although they visited often, and adored their grandmother, he had thought of her as a working woman who would have little time for them. Elizabeth was very dedicated to the company, and he still had trouble reconciling himself to the idea of a woman who both had a career and children, though he knew several women, including Rose, who managed to handle both. But most of those women had no choice but to work, while Elizabeth could easily sit back and let others run the company. It seemed to him that someone should be home for the children, though he had to admit that this view was somewhat hypocritical, as he had raised his children alone or with the help of a hired caretaker for most of their lives. Mary had only been four months old when Jana had died, and he and Miriam had only been married for three months before her death in the Titanic disaster. Jana's mother had helped to care for Mary, but for the most part John had raised her—and later Nadia—himself, working to keep them fed at the same time.

"I do think it would be in the girls' best interest to keep them in a familiar environment," Elizabeth told him, interrupting his thoughts. "You would know where they were, and what kind of life they were living, as well. It would be best for all concerned, I think, if you left them with me. I am their only living relative this side of the Atlantic, and I don't think this is a good time to ship them off to England."

"No, it isn't," John agreed. Thinking over what Elizabeth had said, he realized that she was right. Mary and Nadia would be better off in a familiar setting while he was away, and in the event that he did not return, he knew that Elizabeth would see that they were provided for.

"All right," he finally agreed. "I will have them packed and bring them to you by the time I have to leave." He got to his feet to return to work.

"John." Elizabeth's voice stopped him. "I know that you worry about the girls, but they'll be fine. Children are very resilient, and they'll adapt to your being gone. Hopefully, you'll be back before too much time has passed, and in the meantime, I'll see to it that they want for nothing."

John nodded his head, grateful that the girls would be taken care of. "Thank you, Elizabeth."

August 1, 1917

The car that Elizabeth had sent for the girls and their belongings pulled up in front of the mansion. Mary, Nadia, and John climbed out, as the driver began unloading the children's belongings and bringing them to the house.

John walked with his daughters to the house. They knew that they would be staying with their grandmother for a while, though no one could be sure for how long. Elizabeth had already arranged several fun activities to take their minds off of their father's absence, and had taken a couple of weeks off from her work to help them settle in.

As soon as the girls were moved in, it was time for John to leave them. He had put this off as long as possible, but he had to get to the train station soon, and there wasn't time for a long visit. The car that had brought them to Elizabeth's home would also take him to the station, so he had a few minutes to say good-bye to his daughters.

Mary and Nadia had been excited at the prospect of staying with their grandmother for a while, but when they realized that their father was really going to be gone for a stretch, the tears started.

"Daddy!" Mary wailed, clinging to him. "Don't go away."

"Yeah," Nadia added, competing with Mary to hold onto him. "We don't want you to leave."

John knelt down their level. "It won't be so bad. You're going to have a lot of fun with Grandma. She has lots of nice things planned—"

"No!" Nadia wailed. "I wanna go with you!"

"Me, too!" Mary chimed in, wrapping her arms around his neck.

John gently disentangled them. "You can't come with me. War is no place for a pair of seven-year-old girls. It's a nasty, dangerous thing."

"You don't have to go," Mary advised him. "If it's nasty and dangerous, then you shouldn't go there either."

"I have to go, Mary. I don't have a choice."

"Why?" Nadia asked.

"Because the government says I have to."

"Why?"

"Because that's what they decided."

"Why did they decide that?"

"Because...because this is a democracy, and they want it to stay that way."

"What's a democracy?"

"It's a system where people are free to do what they want."

"Then why do you _have to leave?" Mary wanted to know, puzzled at this contradiction._

"To make it stay a democracy," John tried to explain.

"Why?"

"Because that's the way it is."

"Well then, democracy is dumb," Mary declared.

"It's the best way to live."

"Then why are you leaving?" Mary's eyes filled with tears. "I don't want you to go away. When are you coming back?"

"I don't know, Mary. Soon, I hope." John hoped most of all that he would come back.

"It's not fair!" Nadia wailed, joining Mary in crying. "I don't want to stay here."

"Nadia, you know your Grandma's going to take good care of you, and you're going to have a lot of fun."

"I don't care. I wanna go home! I don't want to go to a new school."

"Nadia, you'll have fun while you're here, and you'll like your new school. I promise."

"No, I won't." Nadia crossed her arms stubbornly.

John noticed the time, and stood up, giving each daughter a hug. "I have to leave now, but I promise I'll write, and I'll be back as soon as I can."

Mary sniffed, trying to be grown-up and not cry. "Bye, Daddy. I hope you have fun."

John half-laughed at the idea. "I'll try, Mary."

Nadia still clung to him. "Don't go, Daddy. I won't tell anybody."

"It doesn't quite work that way, Nadia. I have to serve my country. It's my duty."

Nadia just stood there crying until he was out the door. Mary tried to comfort her, but Nadia shoved her away and ran up to her room.

John got into the car, looking back as the mansion receded from view. The girls would be all right, once they got used to things. He could only hope that he would be all right, too.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

March 1918

John crouched in the damp, muddy trench, re-reading a letter from Elizabeth, Mary, and Nadia. In the seven months since he had left them behind and reported for basic training, he had seen, heard, and done things that he had never thought possible.

He had spent six weeks in basic training in upper New York state before boarding a ship to Europe. He had been more than a little leery about sailing—his one experience with crossing the Atlantic had not been pleasant—but the ship had arrived in England intact.

It had been a couple of days before they crossed the English Channel to France, so he had taken the opportunity to make a brief visit to London, meeting with family members and his first mother-in-law before being shipped to France. After that, there had been another two weeks of training before the new soldiers were sent to the trenches.

John had never been to France before, but he remembered Miriam's stories of her time there, and concluded that the war had done a lot of damage, since it bore little resemblance to the land Miriam had described. Either that, he thought, or he was seeing an entirely different part of France.

Much of the countryside had been torn up and laid waste by the war, which had gone on for almost three years before the United States decided to join in, and it had changed the lives of many people. He was fairly certain that the United States wouldn't have decided to participate in a foreign war unless it was a genuine threat, but sometimes it was hard to understand just what that threat was. Many people were more concerned with just staying alive day by day than in whatever threat their enemies posed to their country.

He had written as often as he could to his daughters and mother-in-law, as well as to his family in England. He had even received a couple of letters from Rose in California, telling him that all was well with her and that Elizabeth had brought the girls to California to visit during the previous Christmas holidays. Mary, it seemed, was more determined than ever to become an actress after seeing Hollywood.

He had received the letter that he was reading the previous day. Elizabeth wrote that the business was expanding, and that he would probably be moved to a higher position when he returned, and his replacement would keep his old job. Mary and Nadia were doing well. Nadia had won an all-school spelling bee, beating out kids years older than her. Mary had never yet seen the point of proper spelling, but she earned high marks in school and had many friends. Life was good for them, though they still hoped that he would return home soon.

John tucked the letter back into his pack as a chill drizzle began to fall. March in France was worse than March in England, in his opinion. To be sure, March in England was usually damp and cool, but at least when he had lived in London he was indoors most of the time, rather than out in a muddy trench crowded with other equally miserable men.

Things had been calm the last couple of days, with fighting at a minimum, but it expected to flare up again any time. Everyone was alert to the possibility of an attack from the other side, but no one could be sure just when it would come, or in what form. Those in charge were considering attacking first, hopefully giving them an advantage.

Night fell, and still nothing had happened. John was beginning to doze off when shouts and gunfire brought him abruptly to his feet. The long-awaited attack was finally in progress, though in the confusion he wasn't sure which side had started it.

Making sure his weapon was loaded, John pushed into the thick of things. Bullets were flying, men shouting, and explosions rumbled across the landscape.

All too soon, he was in the middle of hand-to-hand combat. He thrust out with his bayonet, stabbing the man in the side but not doing fatal damage. As the man he had stabbed stumbled back, he turned to face another attacker—just as his attacker lunged with his own bayonet, stabbing John in the stomach.

The attacker pushed him away, turning to face someone else, and John clapped his hands over the wound, forgetting about fighting. As he stumbled to the side, sinking to his knees, one of the other Americans noticed his plight and rushed over, dragging him out of the melee.

John clutched his stomach, trying to stem the bleeding. He didn't know how bad it was, but it hurt, and blood was gushing from the wound. As blackness edged at his consciousness, he prayed that he wouldn't die. Not here. Not now. He had promised his daughters that he would come back. What would happen if he didn't return?

Elizabeth would take of them, he knew, but he had promised that he would come back. He had to keep that promise. He had to...

*****

John awakened to find himself lying on a cot in a crowded room. He was near a window, and sunlight streamed in, allowing him to see where he was.

It was some sort of a hospital, he saw, and several nuns were moving amongst the beds, tending to the injured men. He tried to sit up, but pain lanced through his stomach, and he lay back, gasping. One of the nuns noticed and came hurrying over.

"Monsieur!" The rest of her words were lost to him. She spoke in French, a language that he hardly knew a word of.

She pushed him back down, telling him in French to lie still, and then pulled the blanket back to check the wound. John lifted his head to see better, and paled when he saw the amount of blood-tinged gauze wrapped around his middle. The wound was bad.

He had no idea how long he had been unconscious, but he was still alive, though his injured stomach hurt like nothing he had ever experienced. Even falling into freezing water didn't compare to this.

The nun summoned a doctor, who spoke to him in a few words of broken English as he examined the wound, peeling back the gauze. John was shocked when he saw the stitched, enlarged cut in his midsection. The wound had been operated on, cleaned out and sewn up. If it did not become infected, he would probably survive, from he could make of the doctor's broken English. It would be some time before anyone could be sure he would live, but so far it looked good.

He had been there two days, another American told him after the doctor had left. At first, they had considered him hopeless, but when he had stayed alive against the odds, they had treated the wound. He had awakened briefly several times, feverish and fighting against the doctors and nurses, but John had no memory of this. He had become fully conscious a few hours after the fever had broken.

John put his head back, thinking. He'd been there two days? He wondered if Elizabeth had been notified, if she had told the girls what had happened. If she had been notified, he hoped that she had broken the news to them gently. They would be upset if they knew that something had happened to him.

Still thinking of them, John closed his eyes, falling back asleep. Rest was what he needed most now if he was to recover.

*****

John healed, but slowly. There had been some damage to his internal organs by the bayonet wound, though not serious enough to kill or disable him. Still, the healing process was slow, and it was almost the end of March before he could be moved from the hospital.

At first, he wondered if he would be sent back to the trenches, but the doctor finally told him that he would not. He would survive, and eventually recover, but it would be a long time before he was completely healed, and he wasn't going to be sent back.

Early in April, John was sent to England to heal further, and after a few weeks he was put on a ship heading back to the United States.

He was going home.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

April 1918

Much to John's surprise, the first person who came to visit him when he returned to America was Elizabeth Anders. People stared as she walked around the hospital in her expensive traveling suit, trying to locate him.

"There you are!" she exclaimed, walking over to him. "I got a telegram saying you were here, but no one could point me in the right direction." She found a chair and sat down next to him. "How are you doing? I'm assuming you're going to live."

"It looks like it." John tried to sit up, but the pain in his midsection stopped him. He lay back down, looking at his mother-in-law apologetically.

"It's a wonder you're alive, from what I've heard."

"Well, after the battle, I was in the part of the triage that wasn't expected to live, but when I didn't die, they took care of me."

"Amazing. And how are things here?"

"It's good to be back in the United States. I was in England for a while, but it isn't really home anymore."

"How would you like to come back to New York City?"

"You won't be able to keep me away, once I'm recovered."

"I was thinking a little sooner. I don't like the looks of this place, and it's so disorganized—it's a wonder they haven't killed anyone yet."

"I think it's mostly run by volunteers."

"Volunteers can do a good job if they know what they're doing, but I don't think these do. I've already gotten permission for you to come back to the city, where you will have private home care until you are recovered."

"What about the girls?"

"I was thinking that you would stay in my home, with them, until you are completely recovered, and then you can return to your own home and your new position with Anders."

"You're still planning on promoting me?"

"Business is booming. That's something I can say for this war—it's good for business, even if it isn't good for families with young children."

"How are Mary and Nadia?"

"They're doing well, though they still miss you. Mary is going to be in the school play in May. She tried to get Nadia to be in it too, but I'm afraid that Nadia has a shy streak. When the girls were supposed to try out for parts, Mary got right up on stage and auditioned, while Nadia hid and couldn't be found until it was over. Mary made things worse by patting her on the head and telling her that next year it will be better. They finally got Nadia to open and close the curtains. She has good timing, even if she doesn't want to be stared at."

John nodded. "Nadia always was rather shy, from the first time I met her. She and Mary got along from the beginning, but she was still afraid to be far from people she knew. I don't know if she'll ever outgrow it."

"Some children are shy, and never change, but others get more comfortable with people when they grow older."

"For a mother of one, you certainly seem to know a great deal about children."

Elizabeth shrugged. "Some of the servants had children. I observed them, especially before I had one of my own to care for."

Seeing that Elizabeth was uncomfortable with conversation, John wisely changed the subject. "You said in one of your letters that you visited Rose in California last Christmas. How is she?"

"She and Christopher are making a go of it. Christopher is five years old now, and she plans to put him in kindergarten next fall. Rose herself had just won her first speaking role in a moving picture when we visited."

"Speaking role? Do moving pictures have sound now?"

"No, but her words show up on the screen. The picture is supposed to be released in June. It's called 'The Endless Sea', about the family of a man who died on the Lusitania."

John winced. "How was she dealing with the subject material?"

Elizabeth considered for a moment. "She said that she had to face what she went through on the Titanic sometime, and this was as good a way as any. But she always looked sad when she'd been going over the script, even though her part wasn't very large."

"She's doing well, then."

"Yes. She writes often, telling the girls, especially Mary, about acting and Hollywood. Nadia, I believe, is more interested in her descriptions of the beaches and the people she meets."

"When will we be going back to New York City? You sent pictures of my daughters from Christmas, but I haven't actually seen them in over eight months."

"We'll be taking a train back tomorrow. When I told them you were coming home, they were eager and excited. They've missed you."

"Who's been taking care of them during the day?"

"Mostly their teachers, though I also hired a governess who walks with them to and from school, helps them with their work, and watches them when I'm away."

"Have you been away much?"

"No, actually. I've been sending others on the business trips, although they were off from school recently and I took them with me on a trip to Washington, DC. It's good for them to see where the country's laws are made. Mary still insists that democracy is dumb, but she was impressed with the Capitol."

"They're home in New York City now, aren't they?"

"Yes. We returned at the beginning of April, just after I got word that you were being sent home. They've heard some of the stories of what was happening over there, and both were very relieved to hear that you were coming home and weren't going back. I'm afraid I didn't tell them why you were coming home, though. I had hoped that you would be better by now."

"If I was better by now, I would probably have been sent back to the trenches to be cut to pieces again."

Elizabeth grimaced. "Do _not tell that to the girls. Nadia has enough nightmares as it is."_

"I won't it put it in so many words, but I don't look so good. They're sure to notice."

"Yes, but once you convince them that you're home to stay, and you start recovering, they'll feel better."

"I hope so. It's going to be good to be home."

*****

Elizabeth and John boarded a private train car the next morning. Elizabeth had already hired a nurse to look after John until he was well, and she had accompanied Elizabeth to the hospital to get him.

By afternoon, they were back in New York City. John listened to the cacophony with a growing feeling of anticipation. It was good to be back in America, good to be in place where the noise of everyday life could be heard. There were no gunshots, or bombs exploding, or grenades. For all that it was overwhelming at times, New York was home.

They drove to the Anders' mansion in a vehicle designed with reclining people in mind. John was feeling better than he had the whole time he was away, looking forward to seeing his daughters again. When they pulled up in front of the mansion, he pulled himself to a sitting position in spite of the pain.

Mary and Nadia came running out the front door, followed by their governess. She tried to restrain them, but the two girls were too excited. Their father was home at last!

It was only when they got closer that their excitement faded. "Daddy?" their voices chorused, uncertain now.

"It's me, girls. I'm finally home."

Nadia looked like she was going to cry. Mary walked closer and looked him in the face.

"Daddy, what happened to you? You're so scrawny."

John smiled in spite of everything. Mary had never been one to mince words. "I got hurt, Mary. That happens sometimes in war."

"I know. I read the newspaper sometimes. Are you going to get better?"

"Of course. I'm already getting better. Nadia, come here. Please don't cry. That's no way to greet me after I've been gone all this time."

"I'm sorry, Daddy." Nadia tried not to cry.

"Come here, you two." He gave both girls a hug, poking Nadia's nose and making her smile through her tears. "I'm feeling better already. You two are just the medicine I need."

"Are you going to go away again?" Nadia asked, still looking fearful.

"No, Nadia, I'm home to stay. I'll be staying here until I'm better, and then we'll move back to our old house."

"Do we have to go to another school again?" Mary wanted to know.

"No. Your new school isn't as far from the house as I'd thought. You can take the train there every day."

"Good. I'm going to be in the school play, Daddy."

"And I'm opening and closing the curtains," Nadia added.

"Well, then, it's a good thing I'm home, isn't it? I'll be able to watch you."

Nadia brightened. "I'm gonna tell my friends about this. Mabel Ross is gonna be so jealous. Her Daddy's in Europe, and he won't get to see her."

"That's not good. I'll bet she misses him."

"Yeah, she does. She says that she hopes he comes home soon. Her mother got a telegram, and started crying, but wouldn't tell her why."

John felt immediate sympathy for Nadia's friend. He had a strong suspicion that the girl's father wasn't coming back, but he didn't tell Nadia that.

"Let's go inside," the nurse, Diane Cromley, suggested. "You shouldn't be out here, Mr. Calvert."

John didn't object. He was beginning to feel better, but he was tired. He lay back on the gurney as she pushed him into the house with the help of one of the servants. Mary and Nadia walked at his side, chattering about everything that had happened while he was gone.

Once he was settled in a large, airy room, he was at last able to rest. The girls' governess had taken them outside to the garden to cut daffodils for him, giving him a chance to get settled in.

Elizabeth came in to see him just after Mary and Nadia had delivered their large, bright bouquets.

"How are you doing?"

"Better. Much better. Coming home was just what I needed."

"I hope you aren't allergic to flowers. Mary and Nadia were discussing plans to get more of them from the florist."

John laughed. "They're welcome to bring flowers, but why don't you have them choose some live plants that we can take home and put in the garden? I like flowers better when they don't die so quickly."

"You don't really strike me as a flower person."

"No, but it makes the girls happy. And I would like to start a new flower garden at the house once I'm recovered. There weren't any flowers in the trenches. We blew them all up."

"Another thing not to tell Mary and Nadia. Dr. Reinhart, James' personal physician, will be seeing to you. He should be visiting later this afternoon, and will continue to do so until you're recovered."

"Thank you, Elizabeth. You don't know how good it is to be home."

"I can only imagine. Rest now, John. The girls will be pestering you with questions before you know it."

*****

John recovered quickly after coming home, especially with the help of his daughters. Their chatter and smiles were better medicine than anything the best doctors could have done for him, and soon he was out of bed and walking around. Mary and Nadia accompanied him on his ever lengthening walks, dragged along by a rambunctious Allegro, who had jumped up on John's bed the first chance he got and settled down to sleep on his feet. Nurse Cromley objected, but John finally convinced her to allow the dog to stay. Allegro had stayed with Mary when she had pneumonia, and was unwilling to leave John until he recovered from his injury.

In May, John took his first trip outside the mansion since he had come home, to see Mary and Nadia's school play. He stood up and applauded with the other relatives of the children, even when the younger ones forgot their lines or came on stage in the wrong places.

Mary shone on the stage, doing better, in John's opinion, than any of the others. Of course, he admitted, he might just be a little biased, since she was his daughter. He applauded all the children, though, and after the show gave carnations to both Mary and Nadia.

By June, he was completely recovered. He would always carry the scars, but he was as healthy as he ever was. He and his daughters returned to their old home, though Mary and Nadia missed their grandmother. Life was good, though, and John fell into his new position in the company as though he was born to it. He had a good mind for business, and was grateful that he had come home to continue his career.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

November 20, 1920

John stepped into the elevator, on his way to meet with Elizabeth. He wondered, as the elevator neared the tenth floor, what was going on this time.

Expansion had slowed the last two years, after the war had ended. It had ended much sooner than anyone had expected, and hundreds of government contracts had abruptly been canceled, including several held by Anders. Still, the business had continued to prosper, making the transition from a wartime economy to a peacetime one in record time. Unlike some businesses, Anders had anticipated the war's end, though they hadn't known quite when it would occur. They had been prepared to shift the focus from government to consumer at a time when many industries were reeling from the sudden shock of the war's end.

John had worked steadily since June of 1918, running several departments of Anders and overseeing the work in several more branches in other cities. Only one branch had closed with the declining economy, and Elizabeth was already searching for new markets and products. Numerous meetings had been held, and suggestions had been made for where they might expand next, as well as suggestions as to how they were going to hold their own in a declining economic environment.

Thus far, things had gone well, although new expansion was being held off until the beginning of the new year, at least. No one was quite sure what Elizabeth Anders' plans were, not even John, though he was near the top of the company and one of her closest confidantes.

Knocking on Elizabeth's office door, he waited until he heard her voice summoning him inside before opening it. As was usually the case, she sat at her oversized desk, surrounded by paperwork. Her glasses were pushed far down her nose as she examined a sales graph.

"John," Elizabeth greeted him. "Have a seat."

John cleared a stack of papers from the center of the desk and sat down, looking at his mother-in-law. The last time she had called him in here like this, she had been explaining the duties of his new position. He wondered what she was up to now.

"I've finally made up my mind about where to expand next," she told him without preamble. "After much study and careful thought, I've decided to open a branch of Anders in Cedar Rapids, Iowa."

"Where?"

"Cedar Rapids is a town in the Midwest. It's primarily a farming and food manufacturing area. Several area businesses have gone bankrupt, so it's the perfect time to move in."

"What exactly are you planning to move into?"

"The manufacture of food products, of course. There's no lack of local farmers looking for a market, and no lack of people looking for work in that area. With the economy as it is, we can make our move at little cost to us, and become established before anyone else has a chance to take over."

"Are you certain this is a wise move? Opening a new branch in an economically depressed area?"

"There's a need for affordable food products, there and elsewhere. The market is open, and I plan upon taking advantage of it."

"Who will be going to Cedar Rapids to try to establish Anders there?"

"That's where you come in." She stood and walked to the window, then turned back to face him. "I need someone I can trust, someone who knows what he's doing. In February, I will be sending you and the girls west for a time. You will take whoever you think you need to get things established. I don't know how long it will take, but once Anders Cedar Rapids is established, you can come back."

"Elizabeth..." John hesitated. He knew that establishing the company in new area was a task that needed the best, but he wasn't so sure about leaving New York for an extended period of time. "I don't know that I want to do this. The girls are settled here, doing well in school..."

"And you're settled here, too, but it's about time you saw more of the country. Think about it, John. How many immigrants have such an opportunity? Many of them come here, and live their whole lives in one neighborhood, never seeing the great country they came to be a part of. It wouldn't be a permanent move—not unless you wanted it to be. Once things are established, you will come back here, if that is what you choose to do. If, however, you decide to stay, you will have full control of Anders Cedar Rapids, until such time as you decide to rescind that control."

John looked at her closely, not quite believing what he was hearing. Full control of a part of the company? He was near the top, but not so near that such a promotion was to be expected. Why had Elizabeth chosen him, and not one of the other top managers?

"I've already traveled to the area," Elizabeth went on. "There are good schools there for the girls, and the town is not, as one might expect, completely backwards. I think it would also do Mary and Nadia good to live somewhere other than New York City for a time. New York is a great place; I won't deny that, but it isn't the whole world. They need to see other things, other places, and short trips aren't going to let them really see what other parts of the country are like."

"Have I caused a problem somewhere?" John tried to think of some trouble that he might be responsible for.

"Hardly." Elizabeth laughed dryly. "If you were a threat to the company, I wouldn't be offering you this opportunity. I would have demoted or fired you. You may be my son-in-law, and I would never see you and the girls out on the street, but I won't sacrifice what I've worked for. No, you're the best man for the job, and that's why I'm sending you." She sat back down and looked at him. "It's only temporary, of course, unless you decide otherwise. But think of what I'm offering you before you turn it down. You would be in charge of a whole branch of the company, answering to no one except me. Since I trust your judgment, I likely wouldn't spend too much time breathing down your neck. You would have near total autonomy. I know that you have never been entirely in charge before, but I believe you can handle it."

"Your intuition again?"

"My 'intuition', as you call it, has expanded this company far more than my cautious late husband ever thought possible. You have the necessary skills and experience. In addition," Elizabeth looked straight at him, "if you take this position, you will be able to earn your business degree."

"I could do that here."

"If you had the time, which I don't think you do. Between working long hours and taking care of Mary and Nadia, you don't have the time to pursue a degree here. The pace of life is somewhat slower in the Midwest than it is here, and I think you might just be able to accomplish it."

"At what college? How am I supposed to earn a degree in a small farming town?"

"Cedar Rapids, as I've said, isn't that backward—or that small. There is a college there, Coe College. Your education, of course, will be at Anders' expense. I realize that you are quite a bit older than most students, and could probably teach the professors a thing or two, but you'll be working in a new environment. It could be valuable for you to learn how things work there, and how things might work in a changing world. Things aren't the same now as they were before the war, as I'm sure you've noticed. The world is changing, and a successful executive needs to change with it."

John sat back, thinking over what Elizabeth had said. She was right that the world was changing, but he wasn't sure that he wanted to make the move west, into a completely unfamiliar environment. He had never worked in the Midwest, and the only business trips to the western part of the country he had taken were to San Francisco.

"How soon do you need an answer?" he asked, still mulling the matter over.

"By the first of December, so that I can choose someone else to go in your place, if necessary. Of course, if you decide to stay here, you will keep the position you have now, but a move west would offer benefits that you won't get here. Aside from the business degree, you will receive a substantial raise in salary."

"I already make quite a lot."

"But you could make more. I know that it isn't something Miriam would have thought highly of, but it wouldn't be, as she sometimes said, money stained with blood. Anders Cedar Rapids will maintain the same standards as Anders New York, and will bolster the economy of the area. No one will be harmed by this, with the possible exception of a few competitors who didn't move quickly enough."

"You hope."

"Everything is a risk, but I see more risk in maintaining the status quo than in looking for new markets. I have looked everything over, studied it carefully, and have come to the conclusion that this is where our next move should be. Will you help establish Anders Cedar Rapids?"

John thought about it, still hesitant about the idea. "Will you allow me to think it over, first?" he asked her, his mind already debating the issue.

"Of course. You have until December first to decide whether to go at all, and until the company is established there to decide whether or not to stay."


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

February 1921

"Do we have to move?" Mary whined, looking at her father beseechingly. John had decided late in November that he would take the Cedar Rapids job, and had told the girls as much. Nadia had accepted it in her usual quiet way, but Mary had been begging him to change his mind ever since.

"Yes, Mary. We have to move. I'm working a new job."

"I don't want to move. All my friends are here."

"You'll make new friends, and you can see your old friends when we visit New York."

"I don't want to make new friends. Everybody out there's going to be a bunch of hicks."

"I bet it'll be nice, Mary," Nadia interrupted. "We'll get to go to a new school, and meet new people, and be some of the richest kids in town. We're only in the middle here."

"I don't care!" Mary snapped back. "I don't want to move! Dad, can't you please leave me with Grandma?"

"Grandma has a business to run."

"She took care of us when you were away in the war."

"That was different. I couldn't take you with me then."

"But I want to stay here!"

"Don't argue with Dad, Mary," Nadia told her. "Honor thy father and thy mother, like we learned in church."

"We don't have a mother. I bet if we did she wouldn't let Dad move us out into the middle of nowhere."

"You still have to do what Dad says."

"How can you talk about honoring thy father and thy mother? You weren't even born a Christian!"

"No one is born a Christian, Mary," John interrupted her. "You become one when you're baptized."

"Nadia's just a foreigner from a country we never hear about."

"And you and I are foreigners from a country we do hear about. It makes no difference where any of us came from. We're all Americans, and we're all moving to America's heartland."

"That's not fair!"

"Mary, you're eleven years old. In seven years, you'll be old enough to go wherever you want. Until then, you'll go where I tell you. Understand?" John was beginning to lose patience with his elder daughter.

Mary frowned, shuffling her feet on the tile floor. "Yes," she said, a sullen note still in her voice.

John sighed. "I want both of you to go upstairs and help pack. We're leaving in two days." When a thoughtful look crossed Mary's face, he added, "We are not going to delay leaving if you're not finished packing. Whatever you don't pack will be left behind and donated to charity."

John watched the girls climb the stairs, Nadia moving quickly with Mary stomping sullenly behind. At eleven, Mary was fast approaching adolescence, and it showed. She considered herself to be old enough to make her own decisions, but didn't have the maturity or the experience to back up that view. Ten-year-old Nadia was still largely content to allow her father to be in charge, though she would soon be growing up too. Mary had turned eleven in November, and Nadia's eleventh birthday would be on April fifteenth. He wasn't sure of Nadia's exact birth date, but he estimated her to be a few months younger than Mary, and he had chosen as her birthday the date he had taken a frightened orphan by the hand and led her from a room full of lost children.

Hearing the thump of something being dropped, he got to his feet and hurried to the kitchen to assist the cook in packing. The servants he had hired—a cook, housekeeper, and governess—would be coming with the Calverts to Cedar Rapids. The entire household had been a madhouse for the past two weeks, as they packed up everything they were taking with them. The house itself would remain in John's hands until he decided whether or not he would stay in Cedar Rapids.

*****

John, Mary, and Nadia sat in their seats on the train, watching the countryside go by. They had been on the train for two days now, and would be reaching Cedar Rapids in a couple of hours.

Mary had sulked and complained throughout the first day, whining that she was bored, that the beds were uncomfortable, that the train smelled, and that they were leaving civilization. It had gotten to the point where even the girls' governess refused to tolerate her, and sent her to sit alone with nothing to keep her entertained. When she had run to her father to complain, he had agreed with the governess' decision, prompting more sulking from Mary.

Now, Mary stared out the window, trying not to look interested in the surrounding scenery. Living in New York City, she had never seen wide open spaces covered with snow, or cows in the fields, or small houses standing isolated in the wide, rolling countryside. She and Nadia had been west once, to visit Rose at Christmas in 1917, but they had taken a different route, and the girls had been much younger then.

Nadia sat quietly, reading a book, looking up when John pointed out something interesting outside the window. In spite of her acceptance of the family's move, she was more worried than she let on.

Since she had been very young, she had been shy, sometimes painfully so, and in spite of what she had told Mary, she was afraid of moving to a new place where she didn't know anyone and would have to make new friends and go to a new school. She never complained, though, sometimes fearing deep down that if she complained she would be put out on her own. No one had ever given her reason to believe so, but she vaguely remembered losing her mother, and knew that she had been adopted, and these things, combined with her natural shyness, made her fearful.

John watched his two daughters as they sat side by side. Nadia was quiet and uncomplaining, as usual, and Mary, in spite of herself, was watching the passing countryside with interest. She had finally given up on sulking when she realized that all it would get her was to be stuck in a seat by herself. No one was changing their plans because of her sulking.

He looked around, seeing the three servants sitting in another set of seats, and the employees of Anders that he had selected to help start the new branch of the company were scattered around the car. Low murmurs of conversation could be heard. In the next car were several more employees and their families. Some had already decided to make the move to Cedar Rapids permanent, and John only hoped that he could make Anders Cedar Rapids work.

*****

Two days after the group arrived in Cedar Rapids, they were moving into the three story building that would be their headquarters and hiring people to do renovations. The building was only a few blocks from the abandoned mill that Elizabeth Anders had purchased and ordered cleaned out and repaired.

The employees of Anders and their families were living in a hotel in town until they could find other accommodations. Mary and Nadia were going to start school on Monday, three days away, in spite of Mary's protests and Nadia's worries.

John looked around at the building where he would work. It was much smaller than the headquarters of Anders New York, and he had a second floor office, rather than a twelfth floor one. Still, for a company newly putting down roots in town, it was a good place to start. Production would begin in mid-March, and people were already lining up to apply for work. Elizabeth had been right when she had said there was no shortage of people looking for work in town, and people from the surrounding area were applying as well. He had already hired a secretary, since his secretary in New York had refused to move.

True to Elizabeth's word, she had already made arrangements for him to begin attending Coe College in the fall, once Anders Cedar Rapids had a chance to get established. John wasn't sure that he would fit in at the college—at thirty-four, he was much older than most students—but Elizabeth was insisting that he complete a business degree, and was paying for it.

Thus far, things were going well. They would have no trouble finding employees, and the large number of workers they had managed to hire to do renovations were making short work of the repairs necessary for both the headquarters and the mill. It looked like things were going to work out, and even at this early time, John was beginning to think of staying.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

June 5, 1925

The notes of _Pomp and Circumstance rang in the air as John walked onto the stage with the other graduates. It was here at last, a day he had been working toward for four years, the day that he graduated from college. In just a short time, he would receive his Bachelor's degree in Business._

The past few years had flown by. John had begun attending Coe College in the fall of 1921, quickly rising to the top of his class. Just as he had thought, he often knew more than the professors, and more than one person had wondered at the fact that the head of Anders Cedar Rapids was taking college courses in business. On more than one occasion, he had been called upon to be a guest lecturer, sometimes for the very classes he was enrolled in. It had been strange, being both a prominent businessman and a business student, but he had succeeded.

As he received his diploma, he could hear Mary and Nadia cheering loudly from the auditorium. In only a few years, the two girls would be ready for college themselves. John was the first member of the Calvert family to graduate from college, and his parents, who had come all the way from England for the occasion, were immensely proud. They had dreamed, but never dared to believe, that one of their children would go so far.

Elizabeth Anders also sat in the auditorium, watching her son-in-law with shining eyes. Her investment had paid off; John was one of the best managers Anders had ever known, and his education would only make him better. She smiled as her granddaughters cheered, garnering laughter from some of the people sitting nearby.

Anders Cedar Rapids had prospered in the four years since it had been established. The company had grown by leaps and bounds, and now had two mills in town, employing some two thousand people. John had allowed unionization from the start, allowing the mill workers to organize for their own protection. Some of the other managers resented this, but they hadn't dared to go up against the son-in-law of Anders' president, who had long ago proven herself a force to be reckoned with. John worked hand-in-hand with the union leaders, assuring a fair but affordable wage for the employees, as well as mediating any problems that cropped up. The company's reputation as a good workplace preceded it, and those in charge had their choice of the best workers in the region.

The Calverts had lived in Cedar Rapids for the past four years, taking only occasional trips to New York or California. The year before, they had visited Rose and Christopher in Los Angeles, marveling at Rose's rise to stardom. Rose and Christopher had been invited to attend the graduation, but she had been shooting on location in Scotland, and had been unable to come.

Mary and Nadia had adapted to their new home, though Mary often complained that there was nothing to do in Cedar Rapids. Nadia liked it well enough, but she had never had the craving for excitement that Mary had. Mary still intended to join Rose in California after she turned eighteen and try to make it as an actress, a career that she thought would be much more exciting and glamorous than anything she could find in Cedar Rapids.

It wouldn't be long until the girls were grown. Mary and Nadia were both fifteen now, growing rapidly out of the awkwardness of adolescence and into young ladies. Nadia was a good student, near the top of her class, and already planned to attend Coe College as her father had. Mary pursued her acting dream with a sometimes surprising single-mindedness, appearing in every school play she could and in local theatrical productions.

After the graduation ceremony was over, John found his family amongst the crowd. His mother rushed up, embracing him joyfully, while his more reserved father shook his hand, pride shining in his eyes. Mary and Nadia ran up and hugged him, trying to out shout each other with their congratulations. Elizabeth walked up more sedately, shaking his hand as befitted his employer, then hugging him in congratulations as befitted a close relative.

The elder Calverts looked at John's diploma, smiling widely with pride as they read their son's name on it. John watched them, suddenly wondering what Miriam would have thought of where he'd ended up in life. Would she have approved of the way things had turned out, of the direction his life had taken since her death?

As though reading his thoughts, Elizabeth turned to look at him. "Miriam would have been proud," she told him. "You've done a lot of good for a lot of people, and you'll continue to do so in the future. Anders Cedar Rapids provides jobs for many people, and it isn't stained with blood, as it often was under her father's control. She would be proud of what you've done, of what you've accomplished, just as much as I'm proud to have you for a son-in-law."

John smiled, acknowledging the truth of her words. Her glanced up at the brilliant blue sky, the color of Miriam's eyes, and felt her looking down, watching him with love and approval. He glanced at the diploma in his father's hands, and knew somehow that Miriam, too, could see it. She had been watching over him all these years, smiling upon his work and his accomplishments.

As Mary and Nadia linked arms with him, chattering about the surprise luncheon that they and Elizabeth had planned at the best restaurant in town, it seemed to him that he could hear Miriam whispering her congratulations as well, and he smiled, walking on with his daughters into a bright future.

The End.


End file.
